Persuasion
by ForSelya
Summary: Belle tries her best to adjust to her new life while servants try to continue them, the prince tries to recall everything he has forgotten under the curse, and some still aren't convinced that he is the true prince. (I don't own Beauty and The Beast. Anything taken from history is mixed with fiction and/or not completely accurate. Strong T for later chapters.)
1. Ch1: Wake up

Belle sat on the floor by the fire, trying to make sense of what happened last night. One moment she's holding her beast, watching him die in her arms. Then she finds herself with a handsome young man, his arms wrapped around her waist as he swung her around the next. His laugh -her _lover's_ laugh- loud, clear, and so unfamiliar to her. The prince wasted no time in going back inside and checking how each and every servant was holding up, especially the ones who weren't able to speak or move throughout the curse. It was bright and beautiful in the castle once more, and the whole night left everyone exhausted.

…Well, those who couldn't sleep without throwing a celebration were allowed as long as they kept the noise down, but Beast was among those who needed to change out of their soaking wet clothes and retire to their chambers. Belle barely had a word with him after he transformed and reassured her he was ,in fact, still her beast. But Cogsworth, Lumiere, and Garderobe took it upon themselves to explain at least a few things before she decided to get some sleep. She spent the rest of the night thinking about what they told her; The Enchantress, the rose, and his years of being a beast were what filled her thoughts. She didn't ask for more information, she only wondered whether or not that Enchantress was still out there, hiding in the shadows before she unleashed upon him a fate worse than death. That thought alone could keep her from wanting to know more.

"Are you alright?" A voice was able to pull the beauty out of her own thoughts and call her attention. Belle turned around to see a tall man with a broken nose, light tawny skin, and messy auburn hair. He was only wearing a dark green waist coat above a white dress-shirt, brown breeches, and charcoal-black boots.

"That depends on who's asking." She gave a quizzical look. "Is the beast awake yet?"

"That depends…" The man approached her, slightly wobbling and even leaning on the walls for support once he came into full view. "Is Cogsworth here?" he smirked.

Once she met with his azure blue eyes, she let out a light chuckle. "No, I'm afraid not." She shifted her position so she could face him without needing to turn her head. "Sorry, I thought you were one of the servants."

"It's fine. In fact, I hope the other servants think so too; I don't want to deal with anyone this early." The prince stated before coming over to her, nearly tripping in the process only to have Belle stand up to steady him. "I would've come down sooner, but as you can see I'm not used to wearing boots." He smiled, his face turning a bit red. "Do you think I'll need a walking stick before I get used to it?"

"No;I think I can support you by myself." She replied, grinning as she led him to the sofa to be seated next to her.

The brunet stared at her as she fixed the pleats of her skirt. She was ineffable, the epitome of beauty and grace, and surprisingly, she was his -and his alone. He never gave too much thought about what he would do once the curse was lifted, but marrying seemed like the logical thing to do. Still, explaining the events of the curse was more important and he had to clear the air…at least before he proposed. Letting his eyes linger at her features, and smiling hopefully, he started, "Belle?"

"Beast," She interrupted. "I've… talked to your servants about the curse. You don't need to explain further." She stated. "But, may I ask, is it alright if I spent a few days to adjust to this… change?" She asked, looking away and a bit worried of his response. "I mean, I'm glad that everyone's human again -and I can get used to it, eventually- but, I just want everything to slow down. Give me more time…" Belle's eyebrows creased. The bookworm hoped he wouldn't push her to take this transition in all at once, like some of the servants did. He understood her the most, after all.

Discouraged by her question, he tried to smile and agreed. "Of course. Anything you wish."

Belle was somewhat relaxed of his approval; but she, in reality, didn't know how long it would actually take until she could move on. She sighed, still looking away and feeling slightly guilty she couldn't move as fast as everyone else wanted her to. "….I'm very sorry."

"Don't be."

Belle felt him take her hand in his, holding it tightly while she realized how perfectly their fingers fit together. Although there is a lack of fur, it was still a comforting warmth that brought a smile upon her lips. To think this stranger was her beast all along was odd, but she barely knew the beast so she can't really compare. He was always leaving her in the dark, thinking it was unimportant to discuss personal details such as his curse, his life before this… ,his name. But he wouldn't do that, _now_ , would he?

"You know my name…" Belle started, looking at him with an eyebrow arched. "I guess knowing yours would be just as important."

"Oh. Yes. My name is–" He stopped for a moment, blue eyes widening at the sudden realization. "M-my name…" The brunet stood up, pacing back and forth. He was wobbling a bit, yet he continued to pace as if his life depended on it.

"What's wrong?" She asked, staying seated and watching him with concern.

He was muttering to himself, trying to find the right words to say before finally admitting, "I… don't remember." He stopped and ran his hands through his hair. "I think I've forgotten…"

Belle h'md at his response. "How long have you been under the curse?"

"A-about ten years?"

" _Ten years?!_ And you are twenty-one?" The girl stood up from her seat. "That means you were–"

"A child when everyone was enchanted," He answered, turning around to see his Belle full of worry. "Look, let's not dwell on that now. And I'm sure my birth name will come back to me soon. Let's discuss something else." He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to smile for her, but she was still evidently concerned.

Belle opened her mouth, as if to say something, but she slowly sank in to her seat once more. "Very well then." She replied. "What were your parents like? I'm sure your mother was very amiable." The prince scoffed at the mention of his mother being 'amiable', and Belle's eyebrows knitted together at such a response. "What?"

"Belle, I can't even begin to tell you what my mother was like." He sat down beside her, still amused at what Belle had said. "My mother was a _princesse du sang_ , Lady Cassandra…"

* * *

"Have you seen him?!" Cogsworth asked Lumiere frantically.

Lumiere laid lazily on the couch, having the worst hangover of the century. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, slightly annoyed. "Let the master rest; It's been a busy couple of months for all of us."

Cogsworth grunted, taking out a document and waving it in front of his face. "While you were hiding behind a curtain with Babette, Michelle–"

"The vanity?"

"Oh, no. The footrest– **Yes, the vanity!"** He retorted. "Anyway, she went to the village to buy some dresses and went by the tavern! _This_ is what she saw, and now they're planning on taking away our happiness just when it's been secured!"

Lumiere's eyes widened as he read the piece of parchment. Managing to stand up, he grabbed it from him. _"Mon Dieu_ …" He continued to pace back and forth, reading the paper with so much fear and concern that he barely acknowledged where he was going. "This! This is **terrible**!"

 _Crash!_

* * *

Belle stood as still as a statue. "W-what was that?!"

The prince had mirrored her reaction, save for two arms that wrapped protectively around the beauty's waist, tight and unforgiving as a corset. "Do you think the man from last night–?!"

"I'm alright!" A tense voice called out, coated with a thick, bucolic French accent.

"Oh." The brunet's shocked expression was immediately covered up by a nervous laugh. "I wonder what's got Lumiere running around like a headless chicken."

"Beast, you're crushing me." Belle breathed. Her beast tentatively moved his hands away from her. "Thank you. Now, what were you saying?"

"R-right. So, her name was Cassandra..."


	2. Just A Joke

–1709–

Years ago, and even today, a mysterious castle stood behind an array of trees and a blanket of fog. It was an odd structure that produced many tales in the nearby village, Molyneaux, but what lay inside was not what they expected. Inside its grandeur was the daughter of a duchess and a prince, confined in her home and trapped in her mother's marital plans. The princess, as expected, was less than happy she would offer her hand to the 'perfect' stranger.

"I can't believe it!" A young woman yelled, letting the wind play with her dark tresses as her two, narrowed onyx eyes stared out the open window. She let out a groan before standing up from her bed, lifting the sides her black skirt to make it easier.

"Lady Manon, please!" The honey-blonde cook begged. "I'm sure he's just running into some traffic!"

"Don't call me by that hideous first name, Ginger! And I'm not furious about his tardiness! If he is in traffic, then pray to God he gets run over by a carriage!" She roared, shutting the window loud enough to make the other wince. Cassandra grabbed the nearest book and threw it at the wall beside the poor servant, yelling. "How could mother do this?! I'm her flesh and blood, yet a complete stranger can to come to Alsace-Lorraine and claim this estate as his own?! While I am forced to leave my house – _my sanctuary?!_ "

"You know very well that's not what she intended." Ginger said, her brows pressing together as she hesitated to come closer. This was the most unladylike Cassandra had ever been, and the cook wasn't exactly used to seeing her act out. Not since she was nine, the older servants would say.

Cassandra's brows pressed together, her voice almost cracking."I don't want to be a part of this arrangement! If I were to have a partner, I want him to be worthy and chosen by _I_ alone!"

"...But you love this castle. You've made so many memories–"

"Yes, but going through desperate measures to cleanse the shades of my house is one thing I'm not willing to do!" She replied stubbornly.

Ginger shook her head, bending down to pick up the book her mistress threw on the floor. " _Phèdre..."_ She muttered the title.

Cassandra's breath hitched when she realized what she had done, realized the anger she had inflicted on was directed to something with sentimental value. "That was..." The lady stared at the playwright in Ginger's hands, eyes widening. " _Merde,_ I threw maman's beloved book!"

"It's alright! There's barely any damage." The cook reassured her, flipping through the pages before she stopped at a certain page. There was a quote encircled by dark ink, and she read it aloud to her. _"_ To save our imperiled honor everything must be sacrificed, _even virtue._ _"_ She , though feeling empathy for Cassandra's loss, was slightly firm with her words. "This is her favorite quote, isn't it?"

Cassandra stayed silent and looked away in shame, her face softened. The only sound was her fingers drumming against her night stand.

"Your mother adores you, even though she and your father were distant towards each other and towards you. Others want to take your castle away from you, but she, although quite suddenly, tries to secure it. 'Tis true; you cannot ask Princess Louise to reconsider her decision, but you can make do with what your mother has given. Your father would have even agreed to this, if he were in this position." The lady was still silent. Ginger felt unsure about what she said, and was about to apologize for bringing up her deceased father when Cassandra made her way to the exit. She opened the door, her anger seemingly fading.

"You know what my favorite quote of the very same author is, Ms. Dufour?" She asked, a strained smile appearing on her lips. _"I embrace my rival_ – _ **but only to strangle him!"**_ She went out and slammed the door behind her, her face flushing with anger.

"That... didn't go very well..."

* * *

"Monsieur d'Oré, I am very sorry." Ginger said, bowing as low as her confidence and strength to speak with him –which was low enough to make her whole torso face the floor rather than him.

The man was a late by a few hours than he intended ;however, his arrival was too soon for everyone else in the castle, considering their loss. The stars had already come out, and most of the staff was asleep. The cook was the only one who saw him, and was currently apologizing for trying to persuade Cassandra minutes earlier, only to have a door slammed in her face.

"It's alright, Signorina. I can... understand her father's recent passing has affected her behavior. Not to mention, the time of my arrival wasn't the best." He told her in a somewhat kind, yet awkward, tone. He may intimidate people by his towering height, usually quizzical expression, and his naturally deep monotone voice; but this level of fear new to him. "You don't have to apologize."

"Thank you, M'Lord." Ginger stood up straight as a board after, and had the courage to tell him. "The Prince's passing has affected each and every one of us, and I'm very glad you can understand our difficulties." The girl sighed, remembering the day Prince François had been taken from them. Although he definitely wasn't the best of men, his families had shed more tears than he deserved. Everyone had either grieved loudly in the bathrooms, coped by going to bars to drink their sorrows away, or hid behind a smile to lift their spirits up like Ginger did when others needed optimism. But Cassandra was different; she stayed in her room for days, throwing tantrums and having shouting matches with the maids. She was more violent now, and her broken furniture, if they could talk, would agree.

He nodded his head. "Very well, then. Tell Lady Manon I'll wait in the living–"

"Cassandra, actually." A cold, feminine voice interrupted. "I'd like it if people never mention the 'bitterness' that is that name." A small in stature woman strode down the stairs, the edges of her black frocks barely brushing the steps. Monsieur d'Oré, caught off-guard, examined the dress she wore questionably. It was made of silk that had gold trimmings to compliment the godet, obsidian skirt that opened up to reveal a midnight black petticoat, she had a midnight sweetheart bodice that clung tightly to her torso and had a very low neckline -definitely _too low_ to be modest, and dark, see-through, wrapped off-the-shoulder sleeves, where white ruffled cloth hung around it at the end. Her dark hair was in tangles as if she had been sleeping for quite some time and she seemed oblivious to the look Ginger and The Monsieur were giving her.

"Dear God, what... _why_ are you still wearing your nightgown?" Ginger whispered frantically, glancing to see The Monsieur experience the same shock as she felt. "This is very inappropriate!"

She yawned before answering. "What? I wouldn't think he'd have more propriety than I had. He's only from a rich family; not even a drop of noble blood inside him." She said flatly, motioning to the man beside the cook. "I'm _barely_ sinking to his level."

A look of shock, then anger passed The Monsieur's features immediately "A background of a man doesn't define–!"

"Pray, what is your given name again?" She interrupted him sternly, the side of her lips curved upwards.

"I am Monsieur Damien d'Oré," He announced calmly.

The lady, narrowing her eyes at him, said coldly."Well, Damien, I know of your ambitions, I know of this marriage's benefits, I know you plan on using me like a soulless puppet, and I know you're not meant to live in a castle built for nobles. Honestly, who do you think you are? You'd be nothing but a 'pretender' if you marry me. But then again, even _that_ would be a higher rank than what you currently hold." She laughed at her last statement.

"This experiment our parents have concocted will mix as nicely as vinegar and water, for one will always stay above the other." She walked closer towards him in a fast pace, until she was only inches in front of his face. A sarcastic grin appeared. "But, since my cook has asked me to come down to act as your guide before I am placed in a prison made of a golden ring, I shall be the first to say: Welcome to Château de Reverie."

The two of them exchanged sharp glares for a moment, before Damien backed away slowly, muttering bitterly. "You know very well that, if you would consider me as a 'pretender', you ought to consider yourself as one, as well; Your past is rather scandalous, is it not?"

Cassandra's charcoal eyes hardened. "You know nothing..."

"I know that you desperately need my money and a husband, and you'll soon realize that my early arrival was a blessing; I know how people like you work."

The mademoiselle gritted her teeth, "That's very biased of you, Monsieur d'Oré!"

"And the fact you assumed I was here because of greed instead of concern for the welfare of the servants and the isn't?"

The princess scoffed at his attempt to redirect the blame. "Tell me, Monsieur, what exactly are you?! Sure, you are living in a bed of roses, but, compared to me, you are nothing!"

"But without me and my wealth, you will be too...soon." He replied, with his left eyebrow arched and a closed smile for the pleasure he felt of telling her off.

She opened her mouth to give a sharp reply, but found herself speechless before she could deny the truth. Frustrated, she stormed off to her room and slammed the door as hard as she could.

Ginger raised her head to look at Damien, very shameful of the bitter exchange. "I'm–"

"I guess we'll just see each other for dinner tomorrow, then. That ought to give her time to change her mind..." He said, turning around to go to his chambers Ms. Dufour told him about earlier. "If it's not too much, can you prepare something for me to eat? After that journey, I'm quite famished."

Ginger swallowed hard, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. "Yes, Sire." She replied, before scurrying off to tend to the kitchen, muttering, "...God help this house."

* * *

Damien sat quietly in the dinning room, staring at his soup and waiting impatiently for his fiancee to come. When he heard the doors open, he stood up to bow before her. The man noticed the ebony ballgown she wore now was more appropriate. "So, have you changed your mind?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes. You may sit, now." Damien returned to his seat, and Cassandra rested comfortably in a chair across the table. She took a bite out of her roast beef before asking, "So, how was the estate to your liking?"

Damien continued to stir his soup, not looking her in the eye. "Architecture's mostly fine, but the library is too enormous to maintain ; the study needs a renovation; the gardens are nice, but some of the Greek and Catholic based statues need to be removed; the room with the piano, violins, and sheet music need to be repainted; and the servants aren't exactly efficient, however, I understand that they are still in the stages of grief."

Cassandra couldn't stand the fact he wanted to change her castle, but she tried to follow her _scheme_ and flashed a smile. "Would you like to go horseback riding after dinner, my love?"

He looked up to her and rose a brow. "Endearments? This quickly?" For some reason, he had a bad feeling about this sudden willingness to call him hers.

"Oh, so you don't want to ride with your bride-to-be? This marriage is beneficial to both parties, I suggest you at least _try_ to make this work..." She pouted.

"We'll have to do it tomorrow. It might be risky to do it late at night; wolves could come out."

"We'll be fine." She said nonchalantly.

"That is an admirable amount of bravery, but we can't."

"Please?" Cassandra begged, pouting once more with a flirtatious tone hidden in it

"Fine." Damien said in defeat, unaware of what she had planned. "If it will make you happy."

* * *

Once two had finished, the servants excitedly sent them off in hopes of letting them grow closer together, at least establishing a friendship before the marriage. Soon, Cassandra was almost enjoying being outside again if not for Damien, but she tried to hide the fact his presence didn't settle nicely with her. "I take you're not quite used to riding?" The princess asked him as her horse continued to overtake Damien's. She might be holding a lantern with her right hand ,however,she had far better control over her steed than a man who almost always had a driver.

"Maybe a little–" A low branch was in his way, and he immediately ducked. Though a bit surprised, his tone and expression remained firm and unchanging. "–Out of practice, but this isn't a competition."

"In a mood for a game, then?" She teased.

"Signorina, it's late."

"What? A small competition never hurt anyone." She whipped the reigns of her horse excitedly, making it gallop faster into the deepest parts of the woods. The sound of hooves started to fade, and her laugh was merely an echo now.

"Signorina, it's–!" But it was too late; she had disappeared from his sight. _Along with the lantern_. Eyes widening, he stopped his horse for a moment. "Ms. Cassandra?" No reply. He groaned and whipped the reigns of his horse to follow her path.

It seemed like an hour went by when he ventured deeper into unfamiliar parts, and the clouds overhead started to darken. He, nonetheless, continued his search until he found the same horse she took tied to a tree. "Princess Manon." He called out sternly, getting off of his horse and tying it to a branch. "I'm not in the mood for this..."

* * *

A loud clash of thunder nearly made the servants jump, and a drops of water started to pour down and hit the windows like bullets. "It's really coming down, this night..." Ginger said to Earle-Grey the under butler staring at the window worriedly. "I hope they're alright."

"They'll be fine." He said as he put on a jacket to keep the cold from biting his skin. "You worry too much, Ginger."

"It's good to have excess concern than no concern at all. You should be less relaxed about this." She replied sharply.

"I'm back!" Cassandra called out happily, not a drop of water on her outfit.

The servants looked relieved for a moment, before a shot of surprise hit them. "Where's... where's the Master?!" A maid asked frantically, dropping a tray of rolls on the table that were meant for her brother.

"Your highness, where is he?!" Ginger moved closer towards her in a hurried pace.

Cassandra merely shrugged and casually walked past her to take a bite out of the rolls. "I don't know."

"You don't–?!" Ginger's eyes widened with shock and frustration. "How could you leave him out there?! And did you walk?!"

"Oh, I just had a race. I decided to leave my horse and take shortcut from here before it rained. He must be looking for me right about now."

"Mistress, how could you–" Earle-Grey started, but was quickly interrupted by a finger brushing against his lips.

"Look, I'm just having some fun before he takes everything." She said, chuckling to herself. "He doesn't care for me too much, so he'll be back very soon. Now, if all of you will excuse me,I'll just rest in my chambers."

For a long time, the castle staff anxiously waited for Damien. It had been three hours until they gathered a search party without the sleeping mistress' consent, most fearing for the worse and some hoping it hadn't come to that. All of the servants went out, and among them were Ginger, who was more than furious about what her mistress had done.

"I cannot believe this!" The young woman said. Though it was night, it was evident that her face was completely red. Earle-Grey had persuaded her to use a spare horse instead of him, and walked beside her to make sure she was alright.

"Hm, I've never seen you this angry." He grunted, holding an umbrella as it continued to pour. "You sure Cassandra has a heart?"

"Earle-Grey, now's not the time to insult her! We have to find him."

"Fine, but I doubt the mistress knows how to use that shriveled organ in her chest." He said sourly.

"...Maybe we should split up." She told him, thinking it was a good strategy. She was determined to to figure out where he could have gone, and apologize on the behalf of everyone, including the princess. Hopefully, he'd forgive Cassandra afterwards, Of course, _after_ she and the master scolded her.

"Uh, works for me. I guess." He shrugged nonchalantly and went west, whistling a tune as he continued his search.

"I swear, one of these days he'll be as stressed as I am..." Ginger mumbled whilst trying to ignore how creepy this place looked at night. The cook was alone now, and was about to turn right when a flash of lightning suddenly struck a tree next to her. The bark was set ablaze, and the whole thing caught her poor horse by surprise.

"Steady, Laura! Steady!" The animal payed no attention to her and threw her off in fear before galloping away. In a flash, Ginger had fallen to the ground. The glass shards of her lantern shattered on the path, and her head had hit a large stone. She remained there, knocked out in the unforgiving storm.

"Lady Manon?" A familiar, deep voice called out. He stopped for a moment, blue eyes widening as he saw the motionless body, lying on the ground. It was dark, but Damien recognized who she was, and saw a horrifying liquid trickling down her head. Blood.

* * *

Cassandra woke up with a start, hearing people muttering loudly down stairs and strained sobs. Rubbing her eyes, she slipped on a coat and made her way to the living room to see a few candles lit, a servant lying on the sofa, and people staying beside her. The sudden silence that followed after her arrival was eerie, and the mood of the room was depressing and somber. Sad, worried, and tear-stained orbs looked through her like she was glass, and some sharp glares pierced through her soon after. The mademoiselle was about to ask who she was, when Cassandra realized it was the plump, cheerful cook she would often talk to. But something was wrong in the air; why would people gather around her and why was she even there? Her question was quickly answered when she saw the mud and blood stains on Ginger's dress.

"Is she–?!" The princess asked worriedly, barely breathing from the sight.

"No," A man next to her said gruffly. "We'll need to get a doctor in the morning, but cleaning her wounds are the best we can do for now..." The man turned around to look at her, anger reflecting in his azure blue eyes the same way the fire did. "No thanks to you."

"Monsieur Damien, I..." She examined him for a moment. His boots were muddy, he was soaked from head to toe, and a few strands of his copper hair fell messily over his eyes.

"I found her there, next to a pile of rocks. The others said you left me out there in the storm...,and **she** must have fallen when they tried to search for me!" After that yell echoed throughout the room and silenced the other, he tried to restrain himself. "What were you trying to do? Prove something?"

"It...It was a joke." She said, looking away in fear and shame.

"You're right." He told her, fixing the collar of his coat before walking away. "This whole thing is a joke." He closed the door behind him quietly, leaving her to let guilt sink in and pain her the same way poison did.

* * *

The sun shone brightly three mornings after, the rays piercing through the curtains as the birds sung to their young. The nature of morning was enough to awaken Damien, though, there was another thing that pulled him out of his sleep. He woke up to hear a melancholic violin playing, gentle and elegant, yet loud enough to reach his room. He stayed there for a moment, enjoying the gentle sweetness of the music until he couldn't take it anymore. He had to find out who was playing it all this time. As if the music beckoned him to come, he got up and dressed nicely before coming downstairs. He followed the angelic sound to the library, and reluctantly opened the door.

As if the figure had heard him, the person made a sour note before putting the instrument down. "What are you doing here?" A soft, female voice asked. It wasn't out of anger, but concern as to why he was here this early.

"Cassandra?" He called out, coming in and closing the entrance. "I... didn't know you could play."

She cocked her head, a bit confused. "You're not going to scold me?" She had been expecting it for three days now. She knew the reason everyone mostly stayed away from her; to cool down before they make an impulsive move –but she thought Damien would eventually break and punish her verbally. "I mean, the servants utterly loathed me for that trick I played before. I thought you'd confront me for it."

That statement about the servants wasn't a lie. Earle was angry the most, but he knew the serving boy would get over it eventually. "No; I just heard you and thought to see who the mysterious musician was..."

She sighed, looking away and rubbing her exposed elbow. "You know I didn't mean to put anyone in danger." She muttered.

"Still, that didn't give you the right to do what you did."

"I know, and I promise I won't do it again." She replied guiltily and let her fists drop to her sides.

He turned around to leave. "Good."

"Wait, Damien." She said, reaching out her hand. "Why... why did you search for me. I thought you'd return after an hour, but four?"

He rested his hand on the handle, still refusing to look at her. "I had to."

"Was it out of duty? God knows I didn't want you to think taking care of me was your obligation."

"Kindness, actually." He corrected her. "And, if you are to be my wife, it _is_ my job."

"Not anymore." She told him sadly. "You are to own this entire estate; a marriage would only be a logical after thought."

"Your mother sent me a letter that suggested a marriage."

She shook her head. "But I won't force you to accept it. This is your home now, and I've lost my determination to put you through anything else. You can change whatever you see fit; this is no longer mine." Although he couldn't see Cassandra, he could hear the sadness in her voice. Maybe it was too soon? Maybe changing everything she loved about this place would be too harsh...

"You know," he allowed his hands to slip from the door handle, and walked around the room. His arms folded behind his back before he took out _Meditations on First Philosophy_ and pretended to read it. "I realized you've been more calm staying in this grand room. Maybe, if it is able to calm down a fierce, temperamental flame such as yourself; I shall keep it this way. Hopefully, it will work for me and produce a calming atmosphere."

"I usually feel this way about the whole castle; nothing special about this room." She said flatly, rolling her eyes.

Damien closed the book and put it back. "Then I won't change a single thing." His voice was still low, and sounded emotionless; but there was a tender kindness there. Cassandra could tell.

She heard the door creak open, and quickly told him, "Stay here." A grateful smile appeared on her lips as she picked up her violin and bow. "I want to play for you."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I might not be able to post in a few weeks; I'm feeling a bit of a writer's block coming on (Yeah, and school). So, uh, leave a review or something._


	3. Small Complications

–Present–

"...Next thing they knew, they were married." The prince smiled, ending the tale with a happy note. He couldn't help but remember the sound of his father's voice when they would bring up Princess Cassandra's private recitals for him, how happy he was. _I listened to her music,_ he would say, _letting her express her joy and sadness with each passing day. We stopped to chat in the library as well, and we had those talks that seemed to last a lifetime. By the end of a month I knew..._ " _C'est L'amour."_ He finished. "I might not have understood or listened to father about this before, but he wanted to say that love takes time, understanding, and forgiveness. Even when she had her faults."

However, his father _did_ leave out Ginger's near death experience, Cassandra's display of impropriety, and the storm in his retelling. God knows how his son would view his mother after that, and his parents were glad they didn't have to find out... at least before his seventh birthday, when a male servant slipped up and mentioned it to him. The prince didn't remember much except for the furious, female yell that filled the servant's chambers that night. He couldn't really blame his father for changing the story a bit and leaving some parts unspoken...considering the prince himself had done it. But, then again, those parts about his grandparents and their predicament were not important to Belle. Not now, at least.

Belle was about to remark on how familiar this lesson sounded, until a question popped in her head that made her turn white. "D-Did Ginger...die?"

"–What? No! Of course not!" He shook his head. "I mean... I-I don't think she did!"

"Sorry, I just don't recall ever meeting someone with that name." She said worriedly. "Perhaps she found a different employer?"

"Maybe..." He tucked a stray lock behind his ear as he tried to concentrate on the floors. Somehow, he thought looking there would trigger him to remember anything besides what he had talked and thought about a few seconds ago. "My memories are only starting to come back." He looked up at Belle, who was currently hoping she had just failed to meet everyone. "However, what I _do_ know is that, if that were me, I'd leave in a heartbeat." He quickly added.

"I hope so; Ginger didn't deserve to be a part of this mess..."

They sat there in silence, both feeling too awkward about how a presumably dead servant had suddenly become the topic of their discussion to continue.

"M-Master?" A stout, nervous looking man broke the silence and peered through the main entrance before finally coming inside, with a charming Maître d'hôtel following behind him. "I-I hope we're not intruding–"

"Of course not. You can talk to me any time." He told Cogsworth coolly, hoping to switch to a less depressing subject.

Lumiere was practically pushing the butler to go closer towards their master, but he stood like an unmovable rock in the prince's presence. Everyone understood well enough that Cogsworth had a good reason to feel tense or intimidated whenever his prince was around, but the prince thought better if they could get behind that and Cogsworth actually started to feel more comfortable around him. Hopefully, that would be soon. For now, however, it was evident the butler was filled to the brim with fear.

Cogsworth exchanged worried glances with his comrade, before he harrumphed and tried to show some confidence. "Yes, I have some urgent news: The men from last night are coming back. There are posters around town stating that the mayor is recruiting stronger men to vanquish 'The Beast', and a large amount of money will be given to whoever does it. They are planning to attack tomorrow at dawn, once they have gathered enough weapons and all the men who volunteered."

"What?!" Cogsworth flinched the moment the prince stood up and raised his voice. Once the moment had passed, he tried to continue in a softer tone. "No; It's only been a day. They can't be foolish enough to..."

"Master," Lumiere stepped in front of the butler, looking down at his hands while he wrung his fingers. "We have to come to town to explain what happened and state you are a prince, and then contact your mother to prove everyone you were telling the truth."

" _Explain what happened_?! I can't parade around town saying I was The Beast who attacked their beloved town hero! They'll take me for a mad man!"

"We can come up with a cover story." Belle rested her hand on her lover's forearm, a determined look on her face.

"You're fine with me lying to them?" He couldn't understand why Belle, who always seemed too good in his eyes, would want him to do this. Although he always sought Belle's approval first and tried to do what was right in _her_ eyes, he knew, deep down, this wasn't right.

She stood up to be as close as she could be to his eye level. "I want everyone to be safe, Beast. This is all we can do, for now."

"I..." He glanced at the servants, hesitant. Eventually, however, he realized this was their only option and complied. "Fine; but I need some false proof first that I– _The Beast_ is gone."

"Lumiere, do you think we have any brown fur pelts?" Cogsworth asked. "We might need to tear off some parts so they don't know it's an entirely different animal, and make it look dirtier."

"Oui, Mon Capitaine!" Lumiere dashed out of the room with a fierce flare in his eyes.

The others looked to the prince, expecting him to give the rest of their orders. He finally picked up the signal and turned towards the head of the household. "Cogsworth, I need you to contact my family. Tell them... tell them I went missing because..."

"–Some lunatic kept you here for ransom." Belle quickly suggested. "He held you hostage, and you were finally able to escape."

"...Yes." He told her, but he had a feeling his parents wouldn't buy it. "However, Cogsworth, you need to look for any holes in our story and conceal them as much as possible in the letter."

"Then I won't let you down, sire." Cogsworth bowed and quit the room as quickly as possible.

The prince put a hand on Belle's shoulder."As for you, you have to stay behind when I finally come to town."

Belle knitted her brows."But–"

"They still think you're crazy for falling in love with me." He placed a hand on her cheek tenderly. "I need you to hide here before you get hurt."

Belle crossed her arms. "Fine, but I want to help you with your speech." She told him seriously. "Just in case."

The brunet suddenly realized he hadn't talked to anyone outside the castle, let alone a large group of people, for ten years and felt his stomach churn. "Right. I wouldn't want to make a mistake." He moved past her, about to go to a desk and reach for a sheet of paper and a quill to write down what he would say, when he realized something and paused.

"What is it?" Belle asked him, arching a brow.

"Sorry, love, but I have to take care of something first." He placed a quick kiss on her forehead before leaving the room. "I'll see you this afternoon, mon ange!" He shouted as the sound of his footsteps grew fainter.

* * *

The prince quickly climbed up the ladder, mentally cursing himself for nearly forgetting about his family portrait. He could easily use that as proof he was the missing prince; to make them see he was their son. And if the boy in the painting that looked similar to him wasn't enough, his possession of such a thing, with the artist's signature, would further validate he is related to the princess.

Truth be told, he didn't know if it was one of the portraits he threw out the window during his years as a beast. But there was a small chance it was still there, and that would be enough of a reason to make him run to the attic.

When he fnally got there, he realized it looked almost exactly the same. There were still chests, boxes, and papers that were untidily stacked, it was still covered in dust and darkness, there was a horrible draft that made the prince rub his hands to produce much needed heat, and the only light came from a window situated near the entrance. The only difference, besides the lack of rats, was a boy kneeling down and rummaging through the boxes.

"Chip?" He called out.

The boy dropped an old slingshot into a pile of other toys, and faced the prince. "Hello, master!" He said cheerfully, waving. "I was just looking for a few things." He picked a green ball and placed it next to a toy sword.

"Oh. You don't mind, then, if I look for something as well?"

"Sure!"

The master was careful not to step on Chip's stuff, before reaching a different corner of the room to search in. "You know," He started, opening a chest that only contained Cassandra's old dresses and closing it again. "I can get you new toys; no need to look for your old ones."

"Really?" Chip's eyes lit up at the thought.

The man noticed Chip's expression and smiled. "Yes; if you're fine with it."

Chip looked down and muttered. "Well, these are kinda old."

"Then it's settled. After I look for a painting and go to town, I'll give you tops, toy swords, and slingshots. And maybe a few books as well."

Chip grinned and started to imagine having a new set of toys to play with, and how his brothers and sisters would play with him like old times. He remembered that when the curse was still new he would ask them to spend time with him, but they were always too sad to. Now, they can be happy again. "I'll help you look!" The boy shuffled to his feet and started searchinging for the portrait his master spoke of. "What's it look like?" He asked, concentrating and full of determination to find it. However, that was quickly extinguished like a flame when he noticed something shiny in the corner, and grabbed the handle to inspect it. "Woah."

"You don't need to help me–Chip don't touch that!" His master saw that he got a hold of his father's old sword, and quickly ran to his direction.

He lifted it up to get a better angle, before the weight pulled the blade down and made it slash something hidden beneath a black veil, then hit the floor. "Oops."

"Are you alright?" He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. When Chip nodded, he went over to see what the blade struck and removed the veil. He picked up the painting underneath, and examined it.

There was a girl dressed in a spring green ball gown. Her features, although not delicate, made her a beauty among common folk. She had a long nose, lips (the lower one being thicker) that were shaped into a half-sickle smile, low cheek bones, and curly locks that were tied into a bun, while the ones above her forehead formed bangs that reached above her eyebrows. She was very slim, but had a short waist and small hips. Compared to the man beside her, she was much, much smaller. Now, the man beside her towered over the girl. He had a very serious expression displayed on his chiseled facial features, prominent brows, a broken nose, thin lips, broad shoulders, and a strong chin. He was lanky, but unconventionally handsome. He had short, reddish brown hair neatly slicked back, and not a strand fell over his stern-looking eyes. The prince would have only thought them to look slightly familiar (of course, he only remembered his parents' best and most prominent features) , if not for the bored little boy in the navy blue jacket in the lower left that made him grin and almost chuckle.

"It's odd" He started, lowering the painting to look at Chip while he spoke and his smile starting to fade. "To feel like you've known someone your whole life, and remember their voice, but not identify them when you see them." His eyebrows furrowed when he glanced at the portrait again, realizing it frustrated him to see his loved ones as strangers.

Chip gave the slightest of shrugs "Well, I guess you now know how Belle feels."

"Yes, I guess I– _Oh_." His eyes narrowed. "Well then..."

"You sure you're fine with...?" He pointed at the lower right corner, where the portrait had been damaged.

He glanced at it realized that below the large cut, what seemed like the very bottom of a white ballgown remained. He examined it suspiciously before thinking it was just a statue beside them. "Yes, it's fine." The prince pat Chip on the head before exiting. "Thanks for your help. And don't touch anymore swords, alright?"

"Yes, master!" He did what looked like a salut and waited for the sound of his footsteps to disappear. When the brunet had gone, he looked around. "I wonder if he has axes in here..."


	4. Announcements

The prince slipped into his night clothes after he bid Belle goodnight and went over to his bed, his eyes hardly open now. He had spent the rest of the day making sure everything he needed for the arrival was in the castle's possession, practicing his speech and trying to avoid stuttering (while mostly debating with Belle on what lies they would use), remembering how to ride a horse (The castle staff thought it better if he went into town on a horse instead of just being in a carriage, saying 'it would make you look more authoritative'), and trying to forget that girl in the portrait, who haunted him so much.

 _Everyone's counting on me,_ he thought. _I can't let anything distract me, especially not that white statue._ He looked out his window, letting his frustration subside to admire the night sky. It looked like black silk with diamonds adorning it, and a silver coin was placed above the trees. In all his years as a beast, he thought this view would be the only beautiful thing he would ever have the pleasure of seeing. Of course, after Belle came, everything changed.

The beast prince smiled as he remembered the talk they had after he had rescued her from the wolves; how far he got from that small 'you're welcome'. Slowly, then all at once, he fell asleep. His last thought belonging to Belle...

* * *

 _The young prince sat alone in the library, his eyes glued to the book he was reading. The candle's flame flickered ever so slightly that night, and was barely able to cut through the cold and dark. It didn't bother him ,though; he's gotten used to reading without that much light and he had a coat to keep himself warm. The only thing he had to worry about was if a thief had climbed through a window, or if he let the candle fall over and burn the library, or if his mother walked in. It was wiser if he had left an hour ago for Princess Cassandra would kill him if she saw him reading at this hour, let alone this very book, but he just couldn't put it down._

 _"Bonsoir, petit!" He barely had a moment before a girl only wearing a blue night gown and no older than thirteen, lunged at the seven year old to give him a hug. "Why are you still here?"_

 _If the boy didn't know any better, he would have thought she_ wasn't _hugging him so tightly to suffocate him. "Adélaïde, let go of me!"_

 _She grabbed the book from him with ease and gasped when she saw the title. "You're not suppose to read this!"_

 _"I can do whatever I want!" He retorted, trying to reach for the copy of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. "Besides, maman's already teaching me Ancient History! I might as well!"_

 _The girl could feel him struggling, and moved her arms upwards to keep him in an unbreakable headlock. "I'm telling her~!" She told him in a mischievous, sing-song voice._

 _"No! And get off of me!" He raised his hands to try and slap her into releasing him, but kept missing. She of course found it extremely amusing; the girl couldn't help but laugh as he randomly flailed his arms around._

 _"Say you're sorry for ruining my dress yesterday, and I shall pardon thee, pretty fool!"_

 _"Never, Laid!"_

 _She tightened her grip and stated angrily, "Don't call me that! And apologize!"_

 _"No!" He raised his hand again and a loud, satisfying smack was heard. He felt triumph when she let him go, and started to grin. He was about to remark on how weak she was, when_ _he heard a loud thud. "Adélaïde?" He turned around and saw no one behind him._

 _Blue eyes widened at the spot where she once stood, his heart sinking into his stomach._ _The candle on his desk was suddenly distinguished, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "What... What's going on?"_

 _There was suddenly a chorus of whispers, starting out faint and eerie. He couldn't understand what each one was saying, but the contradicting voices sounded contemptuous, feeding his anxieties._ _They grew louder and louder with each passing minute and all he could do was stand there, the color of his face being drained. Soon, blood curdling screams filled the room, echoes of sorrow and anger bouncing off of the walls. It was as if a massacre was occurring, but he just couldn't see it. The voices cut into him like a blade, burned his ears, and took away the wind from his lungs. He closed his eyes and waited for the chaos to go away, but an eternity seemed to pass._

 _ **"W-why?!"** A familiar voice called out, the loudest among the other agonizing screams. **"Why won't you help us?!"**_

 _The prince felt a pang of guilt and opened his eyes instantly to find the source; to explain that he did nothing wrong. But the invisible crowd fell silent._

 _He swallowed hard, waiting to see if they would continue, b_ _ut not another voice was heard. He breathed a sigh of relief, and buried his face in his pale hands. However, he heard someone running, and glanced at the entrance. At that moment he could have sworn he saw someone wearing a white ballgown rush past it._

 _"...Adélaïde_ _?"_

* * *

"Beast!" A worried voice pulled him out of his nightmare and his eyes shot open. "Please, we're already late!"

"What?" The prince rubbed his eyes as she pulled away his curtains, trying not to complain about how the rays of the sun pierced his eyes like Oedipus' dagger. He dropped his hand on his side and realized who the voice belonged to. "Belle ,dear, why are you here?"

"You have to go into town today." Beside him, she put a set of clothes that looked similar to the ones he wore when they first danced. "We're lucky, though. It seems they haven't come yet." She glanced at the window, seeing the sun was already out and trying not to mutter a curse.

"I have to..." He realized what she was talking about and two azure blue eyes widened. "Oh!" He quickly grabbed his garments and went behind a changing screen. "I'm sorry!" He added hastily.

"It's fine. Just hurry up and remember what we talked about yesterday, alright?" The beauty said with a crooked smile. Obviously, she was as stressed as he was. She heard Mrs. Potts come in with a tray of food, and carefully placed it on his bed. "Cogsworth said you have to meet him at the stables later. I can't join you to go over the plan; papa's still sick and I need to take care of him."

The prince suddenly felt a tinge of guilt for forgetting Maurice was resting in one of their spare rooms. "Tell him I hope he gets well soon."

His love opened the door and said, "I will.", before closing the door behind her. Belle was no longer there, and now the beast-prince was alone to make sense of what he had dreamed of.

 _Who... Who were they?_

* * *

"Remember, master. Chin up, shoulders back, and look confident" Cogsworth stated once the prince –after nine tries– _finally_ got on the stallion. The mob was already suppose to come here an _hour_ ago, and this didn't make the prince any less anxious they would come any second.

"Y-You think I'll be fine?" He realized too late that he sounded nervous, but lying about it now wouldn't help.

"Yes, of course!" Lumiere answered. Cogsworth rolled his eyes at the fact his friend comforted the master first before he did –when it was _clearer than a crystal_ that he was talking to the head of the household.

"–And we will be joining you. Remember, we'll be in a carriage not far from you to offer any help." The butler grinned while moving Lumiere aside.

"S-sure." He told them. "Thank you. I wouldn't know what to do if I was alone there." Before any of the two could rub the prince's thanks in the others face, he added. " _Both_ of you."

"The carriage is ready, master!" One of the servants called out.

"Yes, thank you monsieur." He unfolded a slightly creased map that Belle gave him yesterday, and took a deep breath. _Everything will be fine..._

* * *

"Oh, sister, I hope they find Gaston soon!" Paulette, one of the identical, blonde triplets stated worriedly. She had been looking out the window all day in hopes of finding him striding through town to announce The Beast was dead. "The men said they'd attack earlier, but all of them chickened out! How can we ever hope to see him again?!"

"No one can take down Gaston!" Claudette told her, slapping her sister's shoulder in annoyance. "This is what the mayor gets for giving money first, and letting them finish their end of the bargain later! But I bet, when they do find him, he'll already be dragging that beast by his foot!"

"You think there are any other dashing bachelors besides Gaston?" Laurette asked nonchalantly, looking at her nails.

"Hey! Gaston is the only one we adore, right Paulette?" Claudette asked, but was surprised to see her musing.

"It _has_ been a long time since we've seen him. What if..." Her eyes widened." What if he's covered in scars when he comes back? Ew! That would be disgusting!"

"Don't be foolish!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "I love him, and that's the end of that."

"Fine," Laurette rolled her eyes. "But it's _your_ loss when we find someone new."

"Girls, look!" Paulette pointed out the window, excited. "Looks like a rich boy's lost his way!"

"What?!" Laurette pushed Claudette and Paulette aside to look out the window. "Hm, I can't see his face clearly from afar, but he's probably confused." Laurette stated, noticing the way he scratched the back of his neck and how he kept looking around. "He's not as muscular as Gaston, but I guess he'll need a pretty girl to show him the way." She gave the slightest of shrugs before exiting, a mischievous grin creeping on her lips.

The other two exchanged unsure glances before they both ran after her, one with the hidden agenda of seducing the traveler first, and the other wanting all of them to stay faithful.

* * *

The prince rode into the village, trying his best not to shake nervously. He didn't know why, but he felt like he had accidentally gone to a different town. He would never accuse Belle of giving him the wrong map, but he had the tugging feeling he took a wrong turn. He had already woken up late this morning, who said another mistake wouldn't come along after his carelessness?

He stopped his horse and look at his surroundings, his hand scratching the back of his neck. He started to notice almost everyone was staring at him, and his hands trembled slightly. He expected for people to be curious to see a nobleman and stranger come to a village, but mentally preparing himself proved to be useless.

 _Was it suddenly warmer here?_ , he thought to himself, a drop of sweat rolling down his brow. _W-Why do I feel like my head's spinning? There's nothing to be nervous about!_ He looked at a nearby house, seeing a blonde wearing an amber dress walking towards him. "Oh, hello. I was just wondering if you could offer me directions?"

The girl started batting her eyelashes as she combed his horse's mane. "Oh sorry, monsieur." She told him seductively. "I'm afraid you haven't reached your destination yet."

"What?" A brow rose at her comment. Did she know where he was going? And if yes, did she know _why_?

She lowered the strap of her dress, grinning. "Yes, I'm afraid my bedroom is that way..." She winked at him and motioned to her house.

Blood rushed to his cheeks when he realized what she was implying, and he looked away shyly. Before he could say anything else, he saw more people approaching him.

 _Thank goodness, someone else can finally help –wait, there's_ three _of them?!_

"Monsieur!" The one in green called out in mock fear, placing the back of her palm on her forehead. "Can one of your soldiers help me find a thief? I'm afraid I lost my heart the moment I saw you."

The one in red elbowed Paulette, keeping an eye on her while she talked. "Please excuse my sisters, sir. Now, what did you want?"

"Oh, yes." He reached out his hand to her, trying to give her the map. "I-I'm afraid I took the wrong turn. I was suppose to go to a village called Moly... Molyn..." He smiled sheepishly as he struggled to say the name. _Goddamnit! Speak properly, you fool!_

Claudette took the map and inspected it, before realizing it was rude not to look him in the eye while he talked. "Oh, _Molyneaux_! You're in the right village, actual–" Claudette paused when she met his gaze, her heart thumping loudly. He was no Gaston, but he had a Prince Charming appeal that was equally attractive to her. And, God, those intense blue eyes that bathed in the sunlight sent a shiver down her spine. They were almost the same shade as Gaston's, too. "...ly" She finished, handing back the map and not taking her eyes off of him.

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?"

It looked as if she was snapped out of a trance, but quickly recovered. "Sorry, I got lost in your eyes." She said dreamily. "You know, you look really cute..."

"P-Pardon me?" The prince stammered, his face turned as red as her dress. He wasn't exactly used to three girls flirting with him at the same time. And he was starting to question if he had ever felt _this_ embarrassed his entire life. "I...Um..."

Cogsworth peered out the window and realized he was in trouble. When the prince saw him, he signaled him to come out of the carriage.

"Ehem! Announcing the arrival of The son of Lady Manon Cassandra Catherine Élisabeth de Bourbon d'Oré and Lord Damien Caito d'Oré!" Cogsworth yelled, stepping into the middle of the town square.

"What?!" The bimbette's said in unison. Both of them backed away slowly and looked at him suspiciously.

"Uh," He turned his attention to the crowd. "Good citizens of Molyneaux, I bring with me urgent news about The Beast!"

The villagers started to murmur amongst themselves, exchanging fearful or angry glances. The prince stayed quiet, unsure if he could call their attention to continue.

"Is it dead?!" The baker's wife finally asked.

He paused then snapped his fingers for Lumiere to bring out what looked like a thick hide of a brown animal. It was covered with mud and pigs' blood to look more authentic, and the prince resisted the urge to gag when he realized how similar it looked to his old fur. "T-This was all we could recover after he _–it_ fell from the roof and was almost entirely eaten by wolves."

The crowd cheered in triumph. They were all applauding Gaston's 'supposed' victory against the terrible beast, much to the prince's slight discomfort.

"Gaston must be so happy!" One of the bimbettes squealed with glee.

"Well, I don't wish to stop you from celebrating further, but... he didn't make it." He replied, trying to sound sympathetic.

Everyone immediately stopped, horror and grief starting to creep up on them.

"But how?!" Dick, one of the tavern's regulars, inquired.

The lord bit the inside of cheek. _Because he's a no good, jealousy-driven hunter. That's why_ ,he thought. But he knew he couldn't say that; everyone viewed him as a perfect paragon, and 'charitable' enough to choose Belle when he had dozens of girls to choose from. They wanted to hear a hero's death, not the truth. Although Belle would disapprove of this, their discussion on how to handle explaining Gaston's death didn't really go far with their endless debate on what to say.

"He used his last strength to push The Beast down the roof and into a ravine with him. We weren't able to find his body." He tried to say confidently. The red flirt he talked to fainted, one of her sisters catching her just in time.

"And what about Belle and Maurice?!" A short, chubby man with a red, round nose asked suspiciously. He wasn't buying any of this. Gaston couldn't just die, and the Leclairs shouldn't have been able to escape. "Did you listen to them and let them go?! They sound like complete lunatics! And Belle, I don't know what devil possessed her to make her feel that way about an animal! Besides, how was it possible they escaped while Gaston was defeated?!"

The prince felt something burning inside him, and he got off the horse quickly –and thankfully not clumsily _–_ and left the animal to Cogsworth to talk to whoever insulted them, face to face. "Excuse me, but what is your name?!"

Lefou gulped when he realized he was almost the same height as Gaston, but he continued to try and sound brave. "Le...Lefou! And what proof do you have?!" He crossed his arms. "And am I the only one who remembers the princess' son died years ago?!"

"Yes, well Belle–" _Think of a good excuse, idiot; anything that fits perfectly with their logic!_ "Belle was under a curse!" He announced. "The beast made her fall in love with him through dark magic and was able to transport her from here to the castle, however, the spell broke when he died! They have gone through so much, and I decided to let her and her father rest in the castle, where we have better supplies." He bent down and narrowed his eyes at Lefou. "And who are you to question my authority? They merely thought I was dead. In reality, I was a prisoner of the beast like that girl was! Why else would I go missing? And, if that's not enough for you..."

Lumiere took out the veiled portrait, and a hush fell over the crowd. He rested his hand on it, building up the moment of reveal, before uncovering it and making all the townspeople gasp. "As all of you can see, the long lost prince has returned!"

"A long lost nobleman!" The baker's wife said in excitement.

"Well, this would make quite a story!" A bookshop keeper chuckled and adjusted his spectacles.

"Oh, Gaston would have gone on and on about how he rescued a prince if he were still alive!" Paulette cried.

"Seems rather _far-fetched_ , if you ask me." Monsieur d'Arque sneered, his beady eyes narrowed.

"Tch, fine! Swoon while I mourn!" Lefou angrily went back into the tavern, Gaston's cronies whispering amongst themselves and questioning the prince while they followed him.

Of all the mixed reactions he heard, at least the rest of the villagers received it positively. "Thank you for listening. You may now continue your–" He paused, eyes widening as he saw a little girl in a white ballgown peeking behind the crowd, her face hidden by her wavy, red hair.

"Your Highness?" Lumiere called out nervously.

The prince blinked a few times, still focused on that very spot, before she had completely vanished. "S-Sorry..." Was all he managed to say as he mounted his horse and left before Cogsworth and Lumiere could say anything else.


	5. Second Impression

He didn't know what she was. He didn't have the faintest idea on why she had been there, but he was sure of one thing.

This was driving him insane.

The prince whipped the reigns of his horse as the sky continued to darken, his forehead growing more and more damp as he rode over the bridge, past the trees, and closer to his castle. He tore through the trees as if they were but illusions, but heard noises behind him. Was she running after him like a wolf would pursue a deer? He didn't know, and quite frankly he didn't want to find out. But after a few uneasy minutes, he reluctantly turned his head.

After his eyes found the source of those sounds, it took every bone and muscle in his body to hold back a scream. Her sudden appearance at the village itself shocked him, but the sight of her walking slowly and yet maintaining a jarringly close distance to him froze his blood. This was the only time he got a closer look at her; and what he saw, he wished would remain locked behind his mind's vault. He had a closer look at her wavy, disheveled hair; her pale, lifeless skin that clung closely to her and emphasized her collar and cheekbones; the lacy white ball gown that looked like it was tailored for a funeral; and that horrible grin she wore that sent a shiver down his spine. He managed to tear his eyes away from the sight and focus on the path to his home, but his heart thrashed around painfully in his breast.

Once he got to the gates, the young man got off his horse and leaned against the iron entrance, gasping for air and clutching his chest.

His eyes flickered to the empty clearing.

 _...She's gone_ , He thought, and tried to relax himself with this knowledge. _I'm safe now._

However, the relief he felt was short-lived for he felt a hand touch his arm.

The prince accidentally slammed his head into the gates, smacked the hand away from him, and whipped around, ignoring everything else but the person who did it. **"Who's there?!"** He shouted fearfully.

Maurice crumpled his hand into a fist and looked at him angrily. "Are you one of the men from the village?! If yes, then don't even _think_ of coming for Belle!" He lifted a lantern with his right hand to see the trespasser, but suddenly felt sympathy when he saw the man. The young prince was visibly shaking, his eyes were widened in panic, and his hair, which looked like it was tied into a neat ponytail earlier, was now a mess. "What happened to you?"

Once the adrenaline had faded, guilt filled its place. "I-I'm very sorry for hurting you, monsieur." The nobleman released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "I was...S-something was chasing after me."

"Wolves?"

He noticed Maurice looked at him as if he was a small child asking an adult to look under his bed for monsters, and tried to sound more calm."No; It wasn't a wolf. I'm not sure what it was, to be honest." He said the last part dejectedly.

"Well, you look like you've seen a ghost," The small man's eyebrows pressed together. "Are you alright?"

The prince tried not to shudder at the word _ghost_. "Far from it at the moment," He breathed. "But I'll be fine. I just need to figure things out."

"I think what you need is to go inside," He told him as he opened the gates and stepped aside to give him space to enter. "Although, you should wait until I've talked to the master before you get a room. He's not comfortable with arrangements like these."

The young man looked at him with confusion, before asking, "Have you... seen the master lately?"

Belle's father arched a brow. "I haven't since I just recovered recently. Why do you ask?"

 _Oh, of course. I was too preoccupied to visit._ "Honestly, if every time we meet someone's scared to death while the other is angry, I should give up on trying to talk to you." He chuckled, running his hand through his hair as a strained smile appeared. "By the way, I'm, er, sorry I locked you and Belle up. I now know my reasons weren't a good enough to excuse my behavior." He stared blankly at the ground, embarrassed and not knowing what else to say.

"Pardon me?" Maurice looked at him with a horrified expression, and the prince felt a bit uncomfortable by the silence.

"I-I'm sorry."

"That's it?" There was anger laced in Maurice's tone.

"Yes; you and her didn't need to be imprisoned." He stated, but there was no reply from the inventor.

In all honesty, he felt like opening his mouth every damn time was making this conversation even more awkward.

"...And trust me when I say I would have picked a far better setting to admit my faults if I could." Another awkward pause passed, and still no reply from his (hopefully) future father-in-law. "Y-you've forgiven me, right? And if not, can I at least try to prove I can be... _tolerable_?"

"... _I'm sorry I locked you and Belle up_?!" Maurice repeated the words furiously. "You know what, I don't think I want to let you inside! I can ask the servants to escort you to a tavern back at the town, but I think it's better if you stayed here and _away_ from her while I do that!" He stepped back and slammed the gates closed.

 _Oh dear Lord, I've really done it._ He grabbed one of the bars of the gate and tried to force it open. "N-No! I'm genuinely sorry!"

"And I'm genuinely angry! Who do you think you are pretending like you're not some... some **murderer!** "

The prince paused, recalling Gaston's fate and regret cutting through him. "I-I didn't mean to kill him! I didn't want anyone to–!"

"–You thought I'd forgive everyone that easily, you thought I'd allow Belle to marry a no good monster,"

The prince stared at the ground uneasily and let his hand slip away from the only entrance of his house. He felt ashamed of his actions, and everything Maurice had to said about him made the prince feel like he would never be able to redeem himself in his eyes. He wanted to admit he was wrong, but then heard Maurice say,

"And all of you thought locking Belle and I in our own cellar while your friends went of to kill The Beast was a good idea! If you were to apologize at all, it should be to all three of us!"

The prince lifted his head to look at Maurice, his distinct blue eyes finally being able to look directly at Belle's father. "What? No, _I'm_ The Beast. I just came back from town and –Wait, the two of you were locked in a cellar by them?"

Maurice disregarded his question as his eyes turned as big as saucers. "You're...really him?"

"Yes," He stated plainly.

The inventor quickly unlocked the entrance and let him inside along with his horse. "Ha! I'm glad I finally met you... again!" Maurice chuckled and slapped the prince's back hard, almost knocking the brunet over. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Frankly, I expected something as...'awkward' as that after what I put you through," He mumbled, rubbing the place were Belle's father struck him.

Maurice heard what he said and his eyebrows then furrowed. "Look, I'll be straight forward, I didn't like you at first–" The prince felt his insides tie into a knot. "But, after everything you've done, I know that you're a good man. I would even call you a hero!"

Blue eyes widened in surprise. The former beast had been a great many things: An aggressive monster, a selfish brat, a prince whose throne was placed in Hell, and recently a liar –but never has he been called a hero. Hearing Maurice's good opinion of him made the prince feel like a boulder that was crushing his chest was finally lifted, but he felt the need to make sure this wasn't all out of politeness.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief. "Or did Belle tell you to go easy on me? I mean, if you're still uncomfortable with our relationship –"

"Nonsense! I'd never think of separating a happy couple! Now, let's hurry, your highness!" Maurice grabbed the prince's arm and started to lead him to the stables to let his stallion rest, but paused when he realized something. "Heavens, I don't even know your name! What is it, my boy?"

His mind went numb."I can't really... remember that much from before the curse. Must be another side effect." He said, embarrassed.

"Oh my, I'm sorry," The inventor felt a tinge of pity for him, which was the last thing the prince wanted right now.

"No! It's fine; My memories are slowly coming back," He told him in a nervous tone. He didn't want to reduce the image Maurice had of the prince into an amnesiac charity case.

"Well, do you need any help? I mean, you're a prince, after all; you have to know what's been going on in France before you take back your position." The noble hadn't really thought about that, and was grateful Maurice brought it up before he tried to get back into politics. "I've kept some newspapers over the years in my house, so maybe I can get them for you? Of course, I won't let you come with me; I can already see the villagers swarming over you and asking why you're with 'Crazy Old Maurice'."

The noble considered it and nodded his head. "Sure. But if anyone asks about Belle, tell them she's running a high fever."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I wanted to keep her here without arousing suspicions." He could already hear Belle's comments on how he could have given a different excuse barraging him. "I just hope she forgives me for the horrible excuses I made up, and how they'd look at Gaston as a hero after my visit."

"What?!"

"No, I didn't say it _directly,"_ He quickly added. "I just told them he killed The Beast –which is _technically_ true ,in my defense." He crossed his arms. "Besides, just let them believe what they want to believe. It's not like we care that much unless it really affects us."

Maurice shrugged. "Fine, but why didn't you say the _real_ reason she was here."

"Gaston just died, and I know this town will soon make up rumors about this if I told the truth. I don't want her family's – _our_ family's reputation to be polluted by false accusations."

The inventor glanced at the castle, his eyes set on the window of Belle's room. "If that's what's best for her, then I'll go along with this." He reached over to take the horse's reigns, when he suddenly heard a carriage approaching.

"Mon Dieu, I almost forgot about Lumiere and Cogsworth." He looked at Maurice and told him to take his horse back to the stables, and stayed behind to wait for his servants.

Thankfully, the only things they wanted to do was congratulate him for the success, give a few worried glances and ask why he suddenly left, and scold him for running away like that. It seemed like no one else knew about the red-haired girl.


	6. The Dark Shades Of Château de Reverie

_**A/N:**_ I changed a few things in the story, sorry. (The names of the prince's grandparents, actually. Also, I gave the castle an actual name and changed the the will to a letter only) But, yeah, everything else is _almost_ the same. You might want to check out 'Just a Joke' for other (small) changes.

* * *

The sky was as black as Cleopatra's hair, and the moon was paler than Juliet's skin. The quiet night had slipped past the beauty's senses as she stayed in the library, reading books that seemed to send her to another world full of fantasy and heroes. Currently, she was in a violent storm with the King of Naples, the waves threatening to sink them, until she heard a knock on the door.

"Mon ange?" The door creaked open a bit, only a face seen behind it.

It took Belle a few seconds to look at him from the farthest corner of the library to recognize him. "How did it go?" There was a hint of nervousness in her soft voice.

The prince smiled reassuringly and opened the door a bit more. "I think we're saf– "

"It went wonderfully!" The door swung open and the prince moved aside to allow Lumiere to walk towards the girl, swagger in his step. "Of course we put those scoundrels in their place! Partly thanks to moi!" He motioned to himself with a debonair smile.

Cogsworth looked at the noble, expecting him to snap at Lumiere, but only hearing a very soft chuckle from him. The butler then shot a glare at the cocky servant and came forth. "Excuse me, monsieur, but I believe _I_ gave the most assistance to the young master. You only carried the mock evidence, and revealed a portrait."

"With charisma that wooed the crowd!" He snapped.

"Yes, and with charisma that had millions of girls at your feet while I found out more on what we've missed and if Lady Cassandra is still residing in Versailles so we can send a letter." He said curtly.

"Be honest; did you end on good terms with the townsfolk?" Belle closed her book and stood up to walk towards him, ignoring the still bickering Cogsworth and Lumiere. "Not that I don't believe that you cannot proceed with the plan, but my village can be... hostile."

"Not exactly," He told her awkwardly. "I left abruptly after almost falling out of character." _That's technically the truth,_ her persuaded himself.

Belle was already right in front of him, and she viewed him with concern. She tenderly brushed his chin and spoke. "You look exhausted."

"Really?" He instinctively brushed his hair to the side, self-conscious.

"You must rest for tomorrow; there are many things to be done. Taking lessons with Cogsworth, to be precise." She raised her hand to hold the back of his head and pull him into a soft kiss, closing her eyes as she savored the feeling it gave her. The nobleman had been enjoying it until Belle's lips parted, pulling him back to reality. He was slightly disappointed and she, seeing that he was, giggled. "Look, you shall get more in the morning. You seem as if you'll collapse if I keep you here longer."

A smile formed upon his lips. "...Well, since you put it that way." He reached for her hand and kissed its back, then said as loud as a whisper. "Goodnight, _Lady Belle_."

Belle was slightly taken aback by her endearment. "...Lady? _"_

His eyebrows pressed together at her reaction. "Too soon?"

"A bit," She admitted. "Do you think... your parents would be agreeable towards me? I'm not of nobility."

"Nonsense, they'll love you just like I do. And when you're ready, you'll become part of my family and share my inheritance."

Belle only nodded her head as an odd feeling set in. She had never imagined herself as one of them; the very thought of her wearing expensive clothing and having servants ready to do whatever she commanded perplexed her. What was a mere peasant girl among nobles? How would his family react to him marrying below their standards? Although she loved the tale, she always thought Cinderella was a too fanciful story. But now, her future as one had been brought to her attention. She felt a bit anxious about having that title and the expectations that come with it, but the prince's way of bringing up the possible fate had made her feel relieved. He wanted make her _his_.

Belle, however, quickly recovered, forcing herself to remember not to rush into this relationship... But why did the idea of rushing suddenly appeal to her? A warm, eager feeling suddenly overcame her and her previous arguments seemed to diminish. She grinned and pulled him closer , keeping him so closely it was like she _begging_ to taste his lips again. The prince's blush heightened at her sudden boldness "Goodnight." She smiled softly, looking through her eyelashes.

Belle gently pressed her mouth against his, intending for it to be longer and gradually firmer, until she heard an "Ehem.". Cogsworth and Lumiere had already ceased arguing and were now looking expectantly at them.

"Oh." Belle moved away from the prince, flushing wildly.

"The mademoiselle is right, you should get some rest before I educate you on etiquette and all the things we have missed during the curse." The butler opened the door and motioned him to come. "Come, now. Your parents will have higher expectations now that you are grown. They will also give you more responsibility. Best thing to do now is exceed their expectations." Belle's smile suddenly disappeared, as she feared what would happen if his family met her.

"Yes. Uh, thank you." He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and went out. Cogsworth was about to go too, and escort him to his quarters, but the nobleman told him coolly, "I can go there myself. You can have some leisure time."

"Y-Yes, Sire." He bowed graciously as the master's footsteps faded.

Belle stared at the door, as if her beast was still there. "I wonder." She breathed, the warmth she felt started to leave her.

"Is there something wrong, ma chère?" Lumiere asked in concern as he put a hand on her shoulder.

She glanced at the floor. "Do you suppose his family will have... expectations for his marriage?"

"Of course, but I know you will exceed them!" Lumiere laughed light-heartedly.

"Mademoiselle, they will absolutely adore you! And, with the letter I will send, I will make sure to give you a special mention of your service to this house!" Cogsworth reassured her, but was also trying to secretly reassure himself.

"Look," Lumiere took her hand and led her to a sofa to allow her seat comfortably. "For many years, the master gradually lost hope! Before he was completely lost in his own suffering, we would tell him that even in the most impossible situations, one can succeed!"

Cogsworth rolled his eyes and sat down in a chair beside Belle, leaning towards her and whispering. "That show off..."

" _Mark Antony and Cleopatra_? Almost impossible!"

"Didn't they die?" Cogsworth asked, eyebrows furrowed.

" _The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet_? Could have been hopeless!"

Cogsworth shook his head disdainfully, which the others ignored.

"And then there was one we have reminded him of even before the curse, which I would like to call: The Ballad of Lady Cassandra and Monsieur Damien." He said, turning his heel and raising his hand for more emphasis."You may not heard of it, but it is a forbidden tale that only the master, besides the staff and his parent, have heard."

"And, Lumiere, if you know what's right, you will keep it that way." Cogsworth said bitterly.

"Of course, of course. But the important thing about this tale was it is about the master's parents, who came from different social classes" He smiled. "When the time is right, I will tell the entirety of the most complicated love story of all time!"

"Oh, he already told me about it." She stated truthfully.

Lumiere and Cogsworth turned their heads, a horrified look on their faces.

"H-he did?" Cogsworth stammered. "And, well, how do you feel about his... grandfather and grandmother?"

Belle raised a brow. "What else did they do in the story, other than the grandmother arranging the monsieur to go there?"

"So, he did not tell you everything?" Lumiere asked.

"What else is there to tell?" The beauty saw the nervous glances between them and some muttering. "What else _is_ there?"

"I'm not telling her. This is too soon." Lumiere stated stubbornly.

"Well I can't tell her! The master will be furious!"

"The master has to come clean _some time_."

"The master will push me into the depths of hell to be with Prince François!" He quietly screamed.

"Well?" Belle interjected, crossing her arms. "Can the two of please explain?"

The two of them glanced at her, then back at each other, Cogsworth shaking his head in anger. Lumiere put his hands on his hips and turned away from him in disgust, making Cogsworth concede.

"Fine," He shot a glare at Lumiere one last time, before finally saying, "Lady Cassandra is not... _born_ from a couple who have been united under the eyes of God."

Her eyes widened at the sudden revelation. "You're saying–"

"She is an illegitimate child." Lumiere stated before Cogsworth could continue to beat around the bush.

"Lumiere!" Cogsworth snapped.

Belle crossed her legs and leaned forward in interest. "Go on."

Cogsworth face softened as he looked at her, then sighed deeply. "M. François Louis and Mme. Louise Françoise were siblings-in-law. They knew each other, and it was known in court that they were in love. François ,however, was already an abusive husband to his _real_ wife, and had the tendency to be unfaithful more than once."

"Actually, being unfaithful with the help of both sexes." Lumiere muttered under his breath.

"He was quite the laughing stock at court," The butler continued. ",and the liaison soon ended. However, Princess Louise, as it turned out, was with child. The Duchess secretly supported her daughter financially, but did not pay too much attention to her as the child was living in this castle, where she would be away from prying eyes. Her husband soon found out about it within the year Cassandra's father died, and Princess Louise had to cut her daughter off and was suppose to send her to a convent with a new identity. Luckily, he never let the news be public.

"I must note, however, that before it was revealed, Princess Cassandra was taken under the care of Madame Caito, a governess with an Italian heritage. Princess Cassandra loved her home, although she also wished to live in L'Isle-Adam with her 'family', and she grew up to be a nice lady. Madame Caito often avoided talking about her father, and only said he was 'a brave young man'. Things were fine, but then her mother stopped supporting her, and the staff was almost sent away. However, it was soon decided that the château would be sold. Madame Caito's very old brother-in-law, a rich french bourgeois, wanted to own it. Princess Louise sent him a letter, telling him she would give one of her daughter's hand to his twenty year old son if he bought it, knowing he was rich enough to support her. Not knowing she was planning on giving her illegitimate child, realizing he had little time on this earth, and thinking this would make his family a part of nobility _although_ only a morganatic marriage can only occur if she was a legitimate child, the man accepted. He gave a large amount of money, and the estate was his. When he found out what he had done, Madame Caito then begged him not to go back on the deal. That Princess Cassandra was a good person and they had to keep everything a secret. Touched by her devotion to her mistresses, he complied. However, he didn't want her to be the princess' governess anymore, and Cassandra was now abandoned by all her parental figures."

"That's... that's awful..." Belle said sympathetically, letting herself absorb this new information.

"But everything worked out fine!" Lumiere interrupted cheerfully. "Cassandra was able to have large sums of money and hid under the last name 'd'Oré' for quite some time, Damien was able to use the vineyard in the lands to export wine and earn more money, they fell in love, the mother was able legitimizing her daughter after a few years, and the master is here!"

"Alright," Belle propped on her elbow "So, let me be clear. Madame Caito is the governess."

"And the master's great aunt." Cogsworth added.

"His grandparents are...?"

"Louise Françoise de Bourbon, Duchess of Bourbon is his grandmother. François Louis, Prince of Conti is his grandfather." Cogsworth said confidently.

Belle nodded her head, before suddenly asking, "And what is your master's real name?"

Cogsworth stayed silent for a moment, before stating nervously, "Well, you see, mademoiselle –uh, we haven't used his highness' name for a very long time–"

"We can't remember," Lumiere admitted matter-of-factly.

"Now, now! I know Jean-Renaud and Henri was a part of his full name!"

"But we remember next to nothing. It was the master's orders not to use his first name and title, and the lack of use has made us forget." He crossed his arms.

"Oh," Belle muttered, a bit disappointed. "Well, thank you for telling me the truth, this night."

"Glad to be of service," Cogsworth told her, bowing his head. "Now, off to bed. Don't forget, you will also meet the master's parents. Lessons need to be taken."

Belle suddenly felt nervous at the mention of his parents. "Yes, it is late." She went over to the door and said her farewell before leaving.

The two servants remained there in silence, wondering if what they had done was right, or if the master would be angry. The good side to it, however, is they were at least relieved all the secrets they have been keeping were released. But sadly, after the event in town, the white lies have been doubled to replace the ones they have revealed. And many, many more will come.

* * *

"I don't trust them!" Lefou said angrily, wiping a beer stein. He looked over the crowd of drunks and the mourning triplets in the tavern.

"How could Gaston just _die?!_ " One of them wailed. It frustrated Lefou even more that he can no longer tell them apart with their now identical, black outfits.

"Yeah, something's up." One of Gaston's cronies, Stanely, stated. "But, Lefou, you can't just _barge_ in there!" He scoffed.

"Maybe," A shadowy figure situated in the corner started, calling everyone's attention. He flipped a single gold coin before emerging from the darkness, his voice as cold as ice. "Maybe you can get information inside the castle walls?"

Tom looked at him, disgruntled. "Monsieur d'Arque, what are you suggesting?"

"Oh, I don't know. I was thinking one of us could come to his home and ask for job. Try to persuade the servants into telling us the truth or find out for ourselves." A malevolent grin played on his lips. He walked towards Lefou, arms folded behind his back, as the crowd parted before him. "Well, if you can't find any dirty secrets _about_ Gaston, use the said secrets to force the truth out of them."

"Tch, you think they'll offer me a job? Just like that?" Lefou retorted.

He bent down, his twisted grin still there. "Tell them that Gaston's tavern has gone out of business, and that you haven't been able to get a new job. If you see mademoiselle Belle, play with her sympathy and she'll persuade the head of the household with here shape and charm."

"And what if the prince doesn't buy it or Belle isn't enough to make them hire him? And, worst of all, what if he finds out we're trying to get dirt on them?" Claudette said contemptuously, putting her hands on her hips. The other sisters nodded in agreement.

"Oh, my dear. Then the three of you will have to go with Lefou." He made his way towards Paulette, putting a pale and bony hand on her shoulder while still looking Claudette in the eye, much to their discomfort. "With all your looks, the prince will be on his knees before the day is over."

Paulette moved away from him, her brows creased. "He's nobility! God knows what he'll do to us!"

"So, you're willing to live with the fact Gaston may have died in the hands of the prince?" He noticed that the entire tavern stared at him, unsure of the possibility. "I mean, the young man looked and acted like he was lying; I've seen the clues. Sweating, stuttering, and when the regulars of this tavern reacted badly, he left in fear. Maybe he was in love with Belle? Maybe that's why Gaston is gone? There's no reason to keep her in the castle when we have substantially good supplies to accommodate whatever illness she has or healing she needs."

He walked over to the door, chuckling menacingly. "...Of course, _it's just a theory_." He stated, before leaving and letting the crowd to consider his plan.


	7. Little White Lies

_The prince was in a narrow room enveloped in darkness, the only directions were either forward or back. He could not see what would be in the end of the path for they seemed to stretch forever, but he was certain he wasn't suppose to be here. There was a ghastly draft in the unknown corridor, and he rubbed his hands together to stay warm._

 _"Petit Saphir?" A girl called out, her voice as sweet as syrup._

 _"Virtuoso?" The young prince looked around nervously, eyebrows pressed together._

 _"Follow my voice and move forward." She persuaded, her words gentle and welcoming. "Please, we can put all of this behind us."_

 _The prince shook his head grimly. "I...I can't."_

 _"Why?" She asked, the sadness in her voice struck him. "Come with me."_

 _"No," He turned around and continued to move. "I can't trust you anymore, not after what you've done."_

 _"I didn't...do anything..."_

 _The boy ignored her and quickened his pace. "Stay away from me!"_

 _"No! Come back." He suddenly heard footsteps following his direction._

 _The prince started to run, desperate to leave. He couldn't see anything, but, for some reason, it felt like going through with this was better than facing her. The path seemed to get narrower and narrower until his shoulders rubbed against the wall, and air seemed scarce._

 _"Don't go, please." She beseeched, the sound of her pleas growing louder, like she close by._

 _He started to see a door at the end, and reached out his hand as if he could already twist the knob._

 _"No, come with me!" He felt a hand grip his arm, but he shoved the girl away from him, both in anger and in fear._

 _"I don't want to be alone!" Her voice was louder than ever as it it was laced with desperation, but it was too late to change his mind. He had already opened his 'escape' from this madness._

 _As he stepped out, the milk light of the moon was cast over him. The wind whistled_ _eerily as he tried to understand where he was. He turned around to try the other route, now that the voice and footsteps ceased, but the structure had completely vanished._

 _The child stood as straight as a board, scared and unsure where he was. It looked like he was in the black forest, but he realized he was too deep inside the overgrown maze to see what lay beyond the emerald colored curtains. He surveyed the moonlit scene behind him, trying to find any clues as to why he was there. There was a ditch a little ways behind him, a carriage flipped over to the side and mostly destroyed. The right wheel was still spinning as the cool wind swept through the clearing, but everything else was motionless. The puddles around him and the dampness underfoot indicated it had rained, and the child was suddenly soaked to the bone. He looked at his clothes and realized they were the color of coal, and his cloak was as red as blood._

 _The boy started walking, hoping to find a way out, but stopped when he heard rustling. He could see a shadow, however, it was too far away for him to be sure._

 _"Who's there?" He asked, taking a step forward. A small twig snapped under his foot, and it ran away."Wait, stop!"_

 _"_ _Promenons nous dans les bois, pendent qui le loup n'yest pas, si le loup y etait il nous mangerait," A little girl sang happily, her voice as soft as silk and yet unsettling._

 _The prince knew that song. It was a lullaby, wasn't it? Yes, someone sang that very lullaby to him when he was still young._

 _"...Victoire" An older woman whispered, her voice loving and tender._

 _"Loup y est tu? m'entend tu? qui fait tu?" The little girl paused, as if waiting for another person to sing the next verse. However, no one did._

 _"Louise-Élisabeth!" Another woman called out, laughing._

 _"Promenons nous dans les bois, pendent qui le loup n'yest pas...si le loup y etait il nous mangerait," She sounded sadder now, more serious._

 _"For the love of God, Marie-_ _Adélaïde_ _!" The second woman shouted angrily._

 _"_ _Adél_ – _" A noblewoman, this time different and more familiar, started frantically. However, other voices cut her off. She tried again. "Natha_ –"

 _The girl had skipped the next verse and tried to continue._ _"_ _Loup y est tu?_ _M'entend tu_ – _"_

 _"_ – _Henriette!" A man with a coarse voice bellowed._ _"And Louis, come here!"_

 _He heard another one shouting breathlessly, "Philippe, don't runaway like that!" The man chuckled to himself as he continued his chase._

 _"Louise?" The first maiden called out._ _"Sophie, where are you?"_

 _"Qui fait tu...?"_

 _Complete silence had followed, the only sound was the prince's heart beat and breathing. He then heard something sharp scratching the trees, and a gruff voice uttering something inaudible. Before he could try to find the source, a hand was suddenly wrapped around his neck to choke him into submission, while the chilling voice whispered:_

 ** _"Je viens pour vous manger."_**

* * *

The prince woke up suddenly, his sheets tangled between his legs as if he had been tossing and turning all night. He breathed a sigh of relief when the nightmare came to a finish, but couldn't help wondering what all this symbolism and imagery meant. Who were they? Where was that Adélaïde and why didn't she appear in this one? Were any of the people in his nightmares real or a work of fiction? Was there any truth in these dreams?

 _'...the products of a brain that's doing nothing. Dreams are nothing but silly imagination, as thin as air, and less predictable than the wind, which sometimes blows on the frozen north and then gets angry and blows south',_ he recalled from one of Mercutio's lines.

He shooed away his thoughts and got off his bed, before he rummaged through the closet. The prince picked out a navy blue tail coat with silver trimmings along with white breeches and brown boots. He clumsily tied his hair with a white ribbon once he finished putting them on, then heard a soft knock on the door. "Who is it?"

"Belle," A voice called out, probably the most comforting one he's heard all morning.

The nobleman opened the door and saw his love wearing her simple blue dress. "Was I late for Cogsworth's lectures?" A brow rose.

"No, it's still early morning," she told him with a smile. "I was just helping the staff again, but I'm done and figured 'Why not continue the book we were reading'." Belle paused and studied his clothes, then chuckled. "Suddenly, I feel underdressed."

"You look fine," He offered his hand, grinning. "Now, let's go before Cogsworth catches us."

Belle giggled and took it as he started to lead her. "How horrid would that be!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Cogsworth stayed in the library, thinking about how he would deliver the news. If he told Princess Cassandra that a lunatic had captured the prince for ransom, as Belle wanted to say, would she not ask why the captor had not sent a threatening notice to get what he wanted? But if he said that a beast had indeed captured the young master and magic became a scapegoat, like the prince had told the villagers, the Princess would be skeptical and think them mad. And if he merely told the truth, things would end the same way it did in the second scenario.

 _I can, however, use La Voison and L'affaire des poisons as proof magic exists_ , he thought. _But this is The Age of Reason, so who's to say they will believe me? And even if I will write the reason and sign with my name, what are the chances she will remember what my hand writing and signature looks like? Moreover, forgery is committed every day!_ The majordomo put his quill down and sighed. _What should I do?_

"Cogsworth?" Mrs. Potts opened the door nervously. "There are, er, a few people who want to speak with you in the drawing room."

A brow arose as he stood up. "Mrs. Potts you sound anxious."

" _Please_ come with me to the drawing room?" She asked again, a crooked smile plastered on her face.

Sensing urgency, he complied. "Oh. Alright, then." He adjusted his coat and marched to the place, a very worried housekeeper following behind him.

* * *

The castle wasn't the same. There were no talking or walking items, it was a lot less scary, and it was occupied by _people_! This was the most elegant home the four of them have ever been in, and it felt like they were in those grand castles Belle often talked about. Lefou suddenly felt guilty for trying to steal and destroy everything along with their army, and he had a feeling that was why the oddly familiar maître d'hôtel looked at him scornfully. Well, the only thing that bothered him more than the other man's glare was how quickly they could fix up the place.

 _Must be one hell of a clean up party,_ Lefou thought.

"Excusez-moi, monsieur, but you were saying?" Lumiere said contemptuously.

Lefou stopped musing and continued explaining. "The only job we've ever had is working in the Legume family's tavern. With our boss gone, no jobs in our town for the taking, and not enough money to travel to another town to find positions, we won't last."

"Monsieur, we really can't give you positions here." Lumiere said with cold civility. He knew very well this man was the person who tried to melt him, and he wasn't in a forgive-and-forget mood. He couldn't trust him, let alone _anyone_ from that town. The servant then looked at the three girls, sympathetic in his speech. "Really, we have all the people we need. My deepest apologies." He stood up from his seat to let them out politely, but then a 'crying' blonde wearing black threw herself onto him.

"I'm begging you, Monsieur!" Paulette wailed, weeping crocodile tears. "We really, really need this job! The only place for me is the the convent, the streets, or the **cemetery**!"

"Listen!" Claudette pulled him away from her by the cravat, angry. Her glare pierced him for a moment, before being replaced by a flirtatious gaze. "I can give you whatever you want. You can... have _all_ of this–" She traced out all her curves seductively, before her eyes suddenly became cold. **"Or you don't."**

Laurette pushed Claudette aside and grinned eagerly. "Oh, Monsieur. Please, I can do a lot _more_ than dusting." She put her hand over his heart, then slowly started moving it down...

"What is going on?" Cogsworth slammed the door open, voice ringing with annoyance.

"Cogsworth!" He ran to him as quickly as he could. "Do not tell Babette what transpired, and deal with these people!"

"Wha–" Before the butler knew it, Lumiere was gone. He surveyed the four people, confused and irritated. "What the devil is happening here?!"

"We need a job." Lefou crossed his arms, eyes narrowed.

The majordomo lifted his chin in defiance. "Absolutely not!"

"Cogsworth," Mrs. Potts came forth, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Just look at the poor dearies! They need this." She pulled him closer and whispered in his ear. "Although, I think you have the right to know they came from the village who sent an angry mob."

"What?!" The butler spoke as if he spat out poison. He turned his attention back to the four "You cannot just come here and ask us to do favors when you stormed down the castle and tried to steal most of our treasures!"

"You. Owe. Us." Claudette glared at him.

He put his hands on his hips and laughed sarcastically. "And why is that?!"

"Our employer killed The Beast." Laurette's words were as warm and soft as steel.

Cogsworth paused, his mouth opened as if he was about to reply, but no words came out.

"You know we're right." Claudette stated, coming closer towards the butler and the housekeeper, her head held high.

A drop of sweat rolled down his brow, and his haughty expression shattered. "Y-yes; of course. However–"

"Yeah, and I was second in command during the attack," Lefou lied. "You ought to show some gratitude!"

"But you stormed the castle and tried to take our furniture! It... it was Gaston who slayed The Beast!" Cogsworth retorted.

"I helped clear the path for him!"

"I can't just hire you!" Cogsworth was starting to run out of excuses. "We have all the people we need and none of you have experience!"

"Yeah, well–" Lefou stopped, hearing a familiar laugh ringing outside. Eyes widening, he got up from his chair and ran out the exit.

 _Oh no._ "Monsieur wait–" The majordomo raced after him. "Please, slow down!"

* * *

"I can't believe he did that!" The prince looked at the beauty with disbelief, whilst she chuckled to herself.

"I know! What makes him think a surprise wedding outside a girl's house would be a good idea!"

"...Well, it _would_ have been if not for the type of relationship he has built with you." He muttered under his breath. Unfortunately, Belle heard him and made a face that look like she ate something sour. "I mean, it is a grand, romantic gesture... it was just for the wrong person."

She mused for a moment, before shrugging. "To each their own."

"Belle!" A male voice called out, exhausted. "You... you're... alright..." With each pause, Lefou wheezed and gasped for air.

The brunet let go of her hand and went in front of her protectively. "What are you doing here?!"

Cogsworth was chasing after Lefou, but he stopped suddenly when he saw the couple with him. "Y-your grace!" He bowed his head before continuing. "I'm very sorry!"

"I thought you said she was sick!" Lefou pointed at Belle and glanced at the prince, furious.

Belle gave the prince a look that screamed _'Why did you...?!'_ , but he looked at her with eyes that seemed to tell her to go with it. "I...I was," She said reluctantly.

"Then why the heck are you still here?!" The man raised both hands in frustration.

The three blondes and the old housekeeper already caught up to them, and the triplets gasped in surprise when Belle was standing behind the prince.

Claudette glared at the nobleman and grabbed him by the cravat. "Aha! So you _were_ lying!"

He tilted his head back, but focused his infuriated eyes on her. "Let go of me!"

"Laurette!" Belle scolded.

"IT'S CLAUDETTE!" She shot a glare at her, then continued her threatening gaze towards the prince.

" _Claudette,_ " She corrected herself. "I was sick, but then they offered me a job as the prince's... English tutor..."

"You can speak in English?" She asked in a mocking tone.

"Yes," She said confidently, like she was being honest in her words. "Remember when I first introduced myself to you, and said my family used to be part of the middle class."

"Yes, Belle." Claudette agreed dryly.

"Well, I had an English tutor, and with my knowledge I'm to become the master's teacher. I'm very fluent."

Lefou scoffed, "Yeah, then prove it!"

Belle rolled her eyes before saying, _"My love is as a fever, longing still/ For that which longer nurseth the disease/ Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,/ Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please/ My reason, the physician to my love/ Angry that his prescriptions are not kept/ Hath left me, and I desperate now approve/ Desire is death, which physic did except/ Past cure I am, now reason is past care/ And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;/ My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are/ At random from the truth vainly expressed/ For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as ni–"_

"Wait!" Lefou raised a hand, then glanced at Claudette, Laurette, and Paulette. "Can any of you prove she's speaking in English?"

"I never learned," Paulette admitted.

"I didn't, either," Claudette shook her head.

"What about you two?" Laurette looked at the cook and a butler, who were trying their best not to look amazed. She could tell from their accents that they were English.

"Oh, yes. She's quite good." Mrs. Potts said truthfully.

"And the prince just _hired_ her even if she barely has any experience teaching?" Laurette crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side.

"Y-Yes," The prince finally spoke, swallowing hard as he struggled to get away from Claudette.

"The prince needed a few servants," Belle added quickly. "Though, he did not want to travel far to hire staff members."

If Belle stopped to look at Cogsworth, she would be inclined to believe he was mentally smacking his forehead.

"Then why the hell did he," Laurette pointed at Cogsworth accusingly. "Say we couldn't be hired if you actually _do_ need help around here?"

"Your highness," Paulette fell to her knees, fake tears filling her doe eyes again. "Please, we have no where to go. We've already lost Gaston, our hero and friend, and without him the tavern's only a house full of memories! Memories everyone cannot bear to remember!"

"The only main attraction there was Gaston and his trophies. Our beer isn't as good as Madame Arthur's..." Laurette pretended to wipe away a tear.

"He saved all of you," Claudette pulled the prince closer, her voice starting to crack. "So w-why won't you h-help us?!" She stared at the brunet, eyes starting to water, before she let go of him and hid her face in shaking hands. "I-I don't want to end up on the streets!" She sobbed.

Lefou shook his head disapprovingly. "Tsk, tsk. What kind of prince lets three, nice girls cry?"

The nobleman didn't want to admit he felt sympathy for the villagers, but he felt sympathy. He wasn't sure, however, whether or not to trust them. He exchanged unsure looks with the others, seeking their opinion on what to do. Cogsworth shook his head slowly, but the other women nodded tentatively. Sighing, he stated. "I think we have some open positions."

The three ceased their acting and looked at him, half surprised and half happy.

"Really?" Paulette's lips formed into a smile as she started to run towards him. Claudette sensed danger and moved aside, letting the excited blonde tackle the prince to the floor and into her arms. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The wind was knocked out of the prince's lungs as he severely felt her weight. His cheeks colored when he realized how close her face was to him and, to be honest, this was the closest he's ever been with a woman besides Belle. "Get...get off me," He managed to grunt.

Paulette giggled, then stood up to hug Claudette. "I told you he would help!" She lied.

"Cogsworth," The prince started, "Deal with them first."

"But, Sire, I am not done with the letter!"

"Please?" He knit his brows.

Cogsworth sighed before announcing, "Mesdames, monsieur, come with me. I have much to tell you." He walked away and let the four of them follow him as he started his lecture. "As the headbutler, I can hire, fire, supervise, provide jurisdiction..."

"Do you think we did the right thing?" A voice asked nervously.

The nobleman shifted his gaze away from the five and saw Belle beside him, worried. "I...I hope so..." His brows then furrowed. "By the way, were you telling the truth? Did you originally belong to the middle class?"

"Oh, yes, actually," She admitted. She saw the prince tilt his head to the side, pressing her to continue. "My father was a merchant before, but then a storm and a fire..." She looked away, saddened by the memory. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm very sorry," He told her apologetically, squeezing her hand.

"It's fine," She said, appreciating how he understood, unlike Gaston. "Now, shall we continue our walk to the library? It looks like poor Cogsworth is preoccupied." A half smile formed as she walked to her favorite room's direction.

He looked around to see if the four villagers were watching, before returning the smile and pulling her closer. " _Robinson Crusoe_ shan't read itself."


	8. Spring

The weeks that followed, in short, weren't the least stressful. For one, the four new servants were almost everywhere; Claudette now helped cooks in the kitchens, Laurette and Paulette became maids, and Lefou became a stable boy. They weren't the most polite and proper of people, and they kept quite a close eye on Belle and the prince It was obvious they were observing them. Looking for stolen glances, the slightest hint of fondness in their voices, a slight touch of hands –they were finding _anything_ that would hint whether or not Monsieur d'Arque was right. Not wanting to fire them even if it could be guessed they had _some_ hidden motives, Belle had long since agreed to keep the relationship a secret. At least until they finish persuading the prince's parents to bring guards and keep the hostile villagers in check. Although the two tried to get away with some activities, often –if not always –the four disrupted some quality time between the prince and Belle, much to the couple's chagrin.

One occasion would be when the prince asked Belle to dance with him in the ballroom. She was allowed to wear one of the servant's dresses – since her blue one was in the laundry and it would be unwise to wear anything too fancy if she would have to walk through the corridors– and happily accepted his private invitation. He didn't mind the circumstances, and soon music filled the golden room as they shared a moment of bliss. The brunet, still not accustomed to his human form, had _a lot_ of re-learning to do; but Belle was glad to offer some assistance. Belle was teasing him fondly about his clumsiness before Laurette's and Paulette's ringing voices echoed and they left hastily. Another occasion was when they were in the gardens, and Belle wanted to show him how the flowers had grown beautifully in the greenhouse. A little dazed and distracted, the prince wasted no time in reminding her what she had promised the night before Lefou and the others came, and desired her lips once more. That is, until Lefou's footsteps were heard and they had to stop. The couple would have gone insane by then, but, thankfully, the only place with a lock, and a key only kept by the master, was the library. They were confined to share intimate conversations, loving exchanges, and reading together there, but confined, nonetheless. To make the situation worse, the two didn't have as much leisure time as they had during the enchantment, thanks to new responsibilities.

Now, that was second reason; There were new responsibilities, new tasks to complete, and lessons to be learned. Cogsworth used the library to educate the couple on what would be their duties as the prince and princess, and stressed the importance of winning the King and the people at court's favor. Cogsworth, along with Belle, also helped the former beast remember how to write, since he couldn't practice under the curse. There was also some guidelines about collecting taxes from tenants, acting as proxy, and learning etiquette. The majordomo was completely set on turning the two into sophisticated, honorable, and politically intelligent individuals just before the prince's parents would give a reply and come meet with them. Or, in their case, _if_ they do.

That was the third reason; Cogsworth had sent a letter that would explain everything, but, alas, still no answer. Everyone had been waiting impatiently for _something_ , but the noble family was taking all the time they needed. A month and a half already passed, and by then everyone's hopes were starting to break down. The prince often hid his frustration and stress, but they would attack him violently when he was alone. With others, all this uncertainty was neatly tucked behind an 'earnest' smile. And, whenever the mask he donned shattered, he was quick to collect the pieces and put it on again. Although he could shoo away whatever uneasiness he felt by reflecting on possible good futures, the dreams weren't easily pushed away. There was no logical way on how to escape them, and they were as unpredictable as the direction of shooting stars.

That was the fourth reason. And on one night, he realized he had enough...

* * *

 _The young prince was walking in a wide ballroom made completely from mirrors, different angles and oddly stretched appearances shown in all of them. There were people in this room wearing masks and black-and-white costumes. Although their mouths moved while retaining a twisted grin, not a sound was heard from them. He could only hear a girl weeping softly in the distance, while silence filled the rest of the room. It seemed like eleven years had passed until he reached the corner of the room, where a 16 year old girl wearing a white ballgown faced the wall as she sobbed quietly._

 _"Who are you...?" The prince kept his distance from the girl, reaching out his hand. Because he was held by fear's piercing fingers, his voice was as soft as a whisper. "And who are these people?"_

 _The young woman suddenly stopped, then made her voice sound stable. "You have to tell me your name first..." She breathed, her voice the same as the one that sang the lullaby in the other dream, but deeper. "Tell me who you are..."_

 _"I...I can't."_

 _"Why?" Her voice was starting to crack, like the answer had as much value to her as it did to him._

 _"I don't know what it is." He saw the mirrors starting to break, and took a step back in alarm. "Please, tell me who all of you are and why I'm here."_

 _ **"You**_ **have** _ **to remember!"** Her voice boomed. As the echo reached him, all the people disappeared into black smoke **"After you put the pieces together, after you realize who you are, you will remember us too!** " The mirror next to her shook then shattered like glass. Now, only a black emptiness was in its place._

 _He flinched at her sudden shift in volume, and the anger that filled the room. "I really can't!" The young prince took another step back as the cracks suddenly reached the mirror underneath his feet._

 _The other breathed heavily, furious. "How dare you..." She turned around, her appearance, her age aside, far different from what he had seen in the wood. Now, her face was dripping with blood, soaking her hair with red liquid; a knife was jabbed into the side of her neck, and yet it affected her not; and the front of her dress was roughly torn up to reveal her pale knees and bony shoulders. **"HOW DARE YOU FORGET! YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS TO ME! I SUFFERED, I WENT THROUGH THE PAIN, AND YOU CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER WHO I WAS!"**_ _Her screeching shook the room, and all the mirrors started to break away and fall around them._

 _In panic, he tried to run away. Sounds of glass crunched underneath his feet, as the woman chased down her prey. He was half-way across the room when she lunged at him and pinned him to the ground. The blood from her face tainted his porcelain skin, and he fearfully looked away from the grotesque sight._

 _"Look at me."_

 _He pressed his left cheek further against the cold floor, avoiding her eyes and writhing under her hands._

 _ **"I SAID LOOK AT ME!"**_

* * *

"Stop!" The prince opened his eyes, gasping for air. He was still in his room, as he always had been, but the dreams... the dreams were starting to get worse. There had to be some way to stop them from becoming more unbearable, and the nobleman was willing to try anything, even if it only had a temporary effect. Did learning his name truly have to do with anything? That might not be the case, but he was willing to try. No more waiting, and no more pretending he can remember it before he returns home. But where would he start? The nobleman put on his robe and stared reluctantly at the door. He didn't know where he would go, but he knew he couldn't fall asleep after that. Uncertainty aside, he left.

The prince walked around aimlessly, hoping to trigger something with each step. It hadn't occurred to him that he knew so little until now, but he thought he knew enough, save for his name. He knew his family's origins, their appearance and names, his father's voice and nature, where he had come from, and not much more. From what he had told himself every night as a beast, he was selfish, alone, and didn't care about anyone else until Belle had shown up. So what else was there to remember besides his childhood being more than he deserved? Definitely nothing but a cold-hearted brat.

It had been what seemed like an hour until he stopped musing and realized he was in the library. It looked a lot colder and creepier without the sun's beams shining through the windows of his little getaway, let alone without Belle, his bright Juliet, by his side. He was suddenly reminded of that line in _Romeo and Juliet_ , where Romeo told the fair sun to drive away the envious moon... _Or was it 'kill'?_ Quite frankly, he remembered Mercutio's lines more.

The prince looked around and saw a book covered in cobwebs, untouched even after the spell broke. Curious, he took out the old copy and blew away the dust. Upon seeing it was Jean Racine's _Phèdre,_ the brunet smiled. He read a few lines from the dog-eared pages, slightly surprised it was still here. _If only I could find the answers here_ , he thought. Flipping back to the first page, he read the author's name.

 _How coincidental,_ he said to himself. _That grandmother's favorite writer wrote about this topic._ He closed the book, but then opened it again in haste.

 _Jean. That..that was_ –

The prince's eyes widened as it slowly became clear. These books, the memories he somehow remembered, and the dreams...

 _Wait a minute..._

* * *

 _"You know," he allowed his hands to slip from the door handle, and walked around the room. His arms folded behind his back before he took out **Meditations on First Philosophy** and pretended to read it. "I realized you've been more calm staying in this grand room. Maybe, if it is able to calm down a fierce, temperamental flame such as yourself; I shall keep it this way. Hopefully, it will work for me and produce a calming atmosphere."_

–

 _"Bonsoir, **petit**!" He barely had a moment before a girl only wearing a blue night gown and no older than thirteen, lunged at the seven year old to give him a hug. "Why are you still here?"_

–

 _" **Mark Antony and Cleopatra**? Almost impossible!" Lumiere the candelabra told his beastly master, hoping to pull him out of his despair. " **The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet**? Could have been hopeless!"_

–

 _" **Petit** Saphir?" A girl called out, her voice as sweet as syrup._

–

 _"_ _Adél_ – _" A noblewoman_ _, this time different and more familiar, started frantically. However, other voices cut her off. She tried again. **"Natha**_ **–"**

* * *

It finally clicked and the prince grabbed a piece of paper and a quill, rushing to write down the first things that came to mind when those memories and dreams suddenly made more sense. By the time the sound of the tip scratching the piece of parchment ceased, he was done writing down his names. But he had an odd feeling that something was missing.

He paced around the room as if his life depended on it, rubbing his head as it ached. He had a fifth name, he knows it. It was important to his family on more than one level. It was spoken in love, in awe, in hate, in grief, and in despair; Although, the five emotions didn't necessarily have to be felt when someone was referring to _him_. No, it meant something else. It meant...It meant...

* * *

–1734–

"Papa, I don't understand why you hate me so much..." The boy looked down, avoiding his parent's gaze.

Damien was taken aback by what his son said. "What made you say that?"

"Someone told me you argued with mama yesterday, and that you both sounded so sad... and angry..." He looked up at his father, earnestly afraid. "Why would you want to get rid of me?"

"Good heavens! I wasn't talking about you, mon saphir!" He chuckled. "No, I was talking about maman's father's château in Val-d'Oise, where he had been buried." The man squeezed his son's hand. "You know, maman used to adore him and wanted to live there. Her governess, your great aunt, would tell her he was the best of men." His smile faltered. "But, when I bought the castle and married your mother, she learned the truth."

"And you hate me because of that?"

"No, my father... wanted your mother to take some of her father's inheritance. We have been talking about whether to do it or not, and grandfather told me the benefits. One, I can possibly own my father-in-law's property." He chuckled, "Even if it was tempting, we had many bad memories linked to that place. Maman, however, wanted you to live like a prince even if she hated it! But I don't think taking on a new path and life is a good idea. Cassandra's mother doesn't agree with me, though."

Blue eyes looked at him suspiciously. "Wait, didn't maman say her mother was a florist's daughter that lived _and_ died here?"

"Hah, d-did she tell you that?" He smiled nervously. _I'll explain everything soon, just not today._ "The point is, we were only fighting about it. We could never hate you." He bent down, smiling at him with such affection.

"One more question," The boy crossed his arms, an eyebrow arched. "Why is the place somehow connected to me?"

Damien whispered in his ear, like the information was dangerous secret between them. "It is because it's called **Château de L'Isle...** "

* * *

–Present–

The prince took the quill, carefully writing out the name before setting it back down. He looked at the names and tried to remember the proper arrangement, until it finally hit him.

The doors suddenly creaked open. "Beast," A voice of an angel called him. "What are you doing? It's past midnight."

"Belle, I think I just realized what it was." He breathed, trying to contain his joy.

"Realized what?"

The prince paused, then the walls he put up to hide his happiness crumbled before her. "My name –I can remember my bloody name!" He exclaimed triumphantly, staring down at the names written on paper. "Well, _names_ –but still!–I just remembered, and it's been so obvious this entire time _–how could I be so blind?!_ "

"Well," she made her was towards him and held his shoulder. "What is your full name?"

"Adam..." He started, putting his hand on hers. "...Jean-René Joktan Nathanaël William de Bourbon d'Oré." The former beast –Prince Adam– looked at her, eyes gleaming with joy. "Quite a mouthful, is it not? Though, you're more than welcome to choose which one to use."

"Hmm... _Adam_..." She tested the name, looking at him thoughtfully.

At that very moment, Adam knew he would have given anything to let Belle call him that as a beast. The way she said it sent a shiver down his spine.

She broke into a smile and put her arms around his neck, before pulling him into a tender kiss. Belle's lips parted, and whispered softly into his ear, while her eyes were closed in sweet ecstasy. "I love you, Adam."


	9. Ch2: Meanwhile

–1731–

 _"Let's come to the forest/ where there's people waiting/ glad and ever joyous/ to see you once again/_

 _If you ev'r feel lost just/remember there's no replacing/ the home that holds a chorus/ that still sings in the glen/_

 _Though the sunflowers grow/ while we wait for you/ Through the summer's glow/ we'll meet for our next adieu/ There will be no replacing/ while we are still waiting/_

 _Though the cut flowers fade/ we will come to your aid/_

 _Though the cut flowers fade/ we will come to your aid."_

Cassandra finished her lullaby, then looked to see if her child was sound asleep. Luckily, he was as still as stone and had started his peaceful slumber.

"Oh thank the Lord," she huffed, then set the baby down gently in his crib.

"Well now we know Nathanaël has your lungs." Damien came towards the small prince, studying him for a moment, before turning around to meet his wife's gaze.

"Yes, and now we know he likes to stay up late like you do." Cassandra practically whispered, wishing not to wake him. "At least my lullaby works, but I think he likes it better when you sing it."

Damien snorted. "I can't sing."

"He doesn't seem to mind." There was a hint of annoyance in her voice, but a small smile had followed. "I don't mind either."

The side of Damien's lips twitched upwards, until he took into account the dark circles under Cassandra's eyes, her messy dark hair, and the damp spots that were on her forehead. That was the time his smile faded. "You should retire."

"Wait a while longer, I need to go talk to his nanny... or _ex-nanny._ You'll have to restrain my arms and carry me away if you want me to go to bed."

"Manon, do not tempt me. You need to rest."

Although Cassandra knew he was joking, she knew he was right as well. Yawning, she walked to the direction of the door. While opening it, she turned around to see Damien staring at the baby with a smile. He reached out his hand to hold the little prince's and softly sung Cassandra's lullaby.

Cassandra continued to twist the door knob and quit the room, her smile returning to her as she made a small stop to the room across the hall.

* * *

–Present–

Mademoiselle de Clermont paced back and forth in the hallway, a creased letter held firmly in her hand.

 _This cannot be. He's gone, buried, deceased! How did they copy Cogsworth's pattern of speech and his handwriting, and how could they ask us to come to the castle if I've never sold it and stays vacant?! Could they have trespassed and taken it? Maybe they had an expert make the letter? And, besides, the story is a little too_ –

"Madame Cassandra?" A woman called her attention, and sighed. "You've been staring at that piece of parchment for months, shall you explain what it contains or continue wearing out the floor?"

Cassandra turned around to see a girl with a dainty nose, thick pink lips, roundish-almond eyes that were in a shade of greyish-blue; and her powdered, curly hair tied back with loose locks hanging around the back of her nape. She had a powder blue dress with a cornflower blue sash. When her hands raised the front of her skirt slightly to walk towards her, she revealed shoes that were the color of sapphires when light struck it. Next to her was lady with hooded dark eyes that still glimmered like stars, a similar hairstyle, thin lips slightly parted in surprise, and a small and narrow nose. As she followed the other in a slower pace, the candlelight showed that she was wearing a velvet-red ballgown, with golden prints and long white sleeves.

"Your Highnesses," Cassandra bowed graciously, then folded the letter in haste. "These are matters that do not concern the crown."

"Excuse my sister, she is only worried for you." The lady with the red dress stated, glancing at her sibling, Marie, with a quizzical look.

"Do not worry, Madame Henriette, I know she means well."

"Well?" Marie Adélaïde asked expectantly, making her go back to the topic at hand. "Why have you been so anxious lately? Do those letters contain any blackmail? Oh dear, I would not think you would ever have to deal with these things..."

"No, no." Cassandra shook her head. "It was just another impostor."

Marie Adélaïde tilted her head to the side, as if asking her to continue. That simple trick used so many times couldn't have triggered this reaction.

"It's different, though. He says he wants me to meet me in the castle first. Somehow, this one's gotten passed the Black Forest and locked gates. He even got some criminal to get our old majordomo's handwriting done _flawlessly_."

"Another one you say?" Henriette sighed, then shook her disapprovingly. "When will they learn?"

"Cassandra, you shan't get worked up about this." Marie's voice was light, but had a seriousness in it.

"Madame, there's no possible way he could have gone into the castle. It was put in a very specific location! With wolves, twists and turns, high bridges, and locked gates!" The madame talked to the floor and gripped the sides of her skirt in frustration. "It was never _meant_ to be found! That is, unless, you are lost for days and happen to stumble upon it. Locks broken and everything to let you in!" Cassandra looked up, brows pressed together in concentration. Thirty seconds passed before she released a breath she was holding, and gave an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, mesdames. I just can't understand how or why this could happen..."

"Shall we give it a chance?" Henriette asked, a sentiment of worry hidden beneath the sentence.

Marie's brows lowered, her eyes looked to Henriette then Cassandra. "No. I won't let anyone's hopes be raised, only to have them dropped and shattered."

Cassandra unconsciously unfolded the letter, her hands trembled ever so slightly with the action. She _needed_ to go, she could feel that there was something different about this one. No matter how absurd it sounded, she couldn't skip a chance to bring her child back from the dead."...I know not what to do when I get there, but hopefully before the ball, I might set the date."

Marie looked at her in disbelief. "You're still considering this?"

"Yes," Cassandra nodded her head slowly. She knew how idiotic it was to say it, but said it nonetheless. "If it is not him, I can at least imprison him for trespassing. For tarnishing _his_ memory."

"And if it is him?" Henriette suddenly asked aloud, but immediately regretted it.

"Henriette, there is not a slightest trace of him for ten years." She turned around and met her gaze to whisper. "And I won't have your reasons to break the poor creature." Marie eyed Cassandra, then returned to her normal stance. "Very well then," she addressed the older woman. "I respect your decision."

"Thank you." Cassandra dipped her head, eyes focused on the ground.

"But be careful; we know not what will occur there. I suggest you bring guards for protection." Henriette warned.

"He asked me to bring some in the letter."

"How bold." Marie added with sarcasm. "That is, if it were not a suicidal plan."

Mademoiselle de Clermont breathed in slowly through her nose, suddenly feeling her insides twisted up. It tortured her soul to go on without at least seeing if he was still there, but hearing them bring in the reality of the plan's nature tortured her even more and made her wonder if desperation was showing. And, considering who they where, they musn't see _that_.

"Rest and leave me to my own devices; you two shouldn't be wandering around at night."

"We _could_ discuss this further, Madame Cassandra" Henriette reasoned.

Marie looked at the two, hand on her hip. "It is late, Henriette. You should leave the two of us to decide." Marie's lips were pressed into a thin line, and her brows lowered darkly. "Besides, with a third-party, it looks like we're plotting a murder with all this candlelight and secrecy." Marie then saw the two women stare at her with a quizzical look. "How sad," she then looked displeased. "I see the mood isn't fit for a mere quip..."

Cassandra bit her lip, wondering if she would be pushing it if she told them again. However, she decided to continue, but tried to sound _a little less_ firm. "I am grateful for your counsel, but the two of you should retire."

"It's quieter in the library at this hour," Marie explained nonchalantly. "But, Henriette, you don't have any plans."

"I was going to pick out a piece to play for Victoire." Henritte muttered.

"I know; but, with our luck, she'll have you improvise or play the newest piece we bought."

Mademoiselle de Clermont followed their conversation, before interjecting. "If you'll excuse me, mesdames. I would wish to go to my apartment."

"Very well," Marie waved her hand dismissively, and continued talking to Henriette about playing something less somber.

Cassandra curtsied then turned around to the direction of the room, but knew very well she wouldn't get any sleep tonight, like the first night she received the notice.


End file.
